


Allies in Love

by Dragon_Mage



Series: They Are Called Family [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 173,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Mage/pseuds/Dragon_Mage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew is a proud American working for Builders League United, a soldier who fought in the marines against the Nazies in World War II, for pride, for freedom of all races, and freedom to love whoever. Of any soldier, Andrew was aware of this part of the fight the most.<br/>Retiring to be a soldier for BLU was supposed to be simple, but it turns complicated because of that damned Spy with the intense hazel eyes.<br/>A romance story about two veterans from World War II, and the realization that they're just entertaining pawns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was all so simple, but now it is falling apart because of that damn Frenchman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another installation of Mann Co Productions! Where we have only the most gruesome of deaths and the most violent drama!
> 
> No smut in this fic.

June 1999

Most things on the Builders League United team were not very complicated. There were nine men working for Builders League United and nine men working for Reliable Excavation and Demolition. The BLU team worked from their cold wintry base up on the mountain. The RED team worked in their pine alcove – which was just a bit less cold – down towards the valley.

That was not a very complicated set up, Andrew thought. It was never supposed to be. It was simple and right to the point, as all things of war should be. And when he found himself facing his enemies, it was as simple as kill or be killed.

On a terribly ice cold day, Andrew found himself fighting against Reliable Excavation and Demolition’s team, the same nine men they always fought. The Builders League United team was having a difficult time keeping up with the enemy’s quick pace in capturing their intelligence.

It was too much in this icy weather. It was difficult to get enough clothing on underneath of any armor, without constricting one’s movements. But there was nothing to be done about it, as a thick blanket of snow covered the area, rendering the land around them cold as ice.

Things were simple up here. Things were basic and to the point. Everything was right the way it was meant to be.

Still, that did not make up for his ice cold fingers. He would pull his gloves away to breathe on them, but that would expose his skin to the icy weather. He could not even bring himself to shiver anymore, as that tired him out.

He rocket launched himself into the air, doubling over a building to land on the next roof. He took a look around, as the winds caught at the skin bared at the back of his neck. It made him cringe and wish he had some wool to wrap around him that would not restrain the movement of his head.

He heard the call of the Administrator, with a countdown going. It would be too late to try and catch up, now that the enemy’s Scout was running with their intelligence for the fifth time. The RED team would win, and the no quarter round – a victory lap the Administrator calls the humiliation round – will begin.

“Shouldn’t stick around here,” he heard the Demoman say.

He turned his head, not having heard the man blast himself onto the rooftop. They were both surveying their chances of escaping to the base. Of course, that would not be much of an escape, as their private quarters were blocked off and locked down to prevent the dirty REDs from sneaking in.

“Let’s get our asses back to the base,” the man said.

He always spoke wise words, Andrew thought. He was generally a smart man, with practicality on his side, kind of like the Engineer. And so he agreed and followed him down to the trail that led up to base.

He was not sure that they would be escaping though. Especially after hearing the Administrator count down and seeing their weapons disappear. It was a disappointing feeling to see his rocket launcher vanish, leaving him without his favorite mode of transport.

“Keep up lad!” the taller man bounded off towards the BLU base up the mountain.

They were almost to the respawn room when Andrew caught the sound of sticky bombs. A familiar scream hit his ears and he turned to see his team’s Spy downed. The Frenchman had been hit in the foot, rendering his appendage a useless stump of blood and carnage. He had turned over to look at his attacker, the RED Demoman who was loading his launch gun.

If there was one thing Andrew had learned from being at war, it was that you never leave a fellow man behind. And regardless of how much danger or how many chances of survival existed, Andrew would always go back for his fellow soldiers. No man would ever be left behind, not while he was around.

He never really thought this way of the Spy before, so he felt so weird when he reached for the man’s pocket, pulling out a kerchief. In one smooth motion he used the handkerchief to grab the sticky that landed on him and throw it back handed at the Demo it came from.

The RED had no time to react, just the widening of the eye before he screamed his death. Being hit in the face with a sticky will do that to a man, after all. So he was left a blast of bloody carnage, while Andrew could finally pick up his teammate, wrapping the Spy’s arm over his shoulders.

When they arrived at respawn, they prepared for the worst. They had no access to weapons or supplies, aside from a few things strewn about. It was times like these that Andrew wished the Medic would be messier so they could have some form of medical supplies to repair their fallen friends.

“Thank you,” the Frenchman said, as they watched the RED team approach the outside.

The BLU team had been slowed down by the effects of the humiliation round. They could not get away. They could not fight back. And with their opponents having a boost, it was impossible to escape. They simply sat there and waited.

“Never leave a soldier behind!” Andrew announced proudly.

They waited for the REDs to come, and when they did, Andrew respawned with a simple thought. Why was the Frenchman so nice to him this time?

 

*********************************************************************

 

January 2000

The New Year’s celebrating was well underway. Everything seemed to be going well for the BLU team, aside from the humiliating defeats for the past months. Nothing seemed to cheer any of them up aside from the booze. And given it was the holiday season, they were all hammered and shitfaced, with the special holiday gifts that the Administrator sent every year.

Normally the stash could have lasted an entire year, but between an entire team of drinking men, paired with their bitter feelings, the stash was going fast. None of the others seemed to notice it. Spy did, he needed to notice everything that was going on, especially if it would harm their work.

By this time, Spy was surprised that they had not been fired just yet. They had been working here in this icy domain for so long and they all wanted a break. They wanted an escape, or at least something to change the outcome of their fights with the RED team.

“Spy, you should take a load off!” the Demoman called him over, summoning him with a mostly empty bottle of booze.

“No thanks,” Spy had had enough for one evening. He would settle for a smoke in his own room, and perhaps the morning would be the time for a glass of red wine.

“Ah come on!” the Scotsman laughed heartily, “You ain’t afraid to get shitfaced, are ye?”

“He’d lose his girlish cool!” the Scout taunted, joining in on the laughter.

Scout would not make Spy lose his “cool” though. Spy was level headed enough to see when he was being pushed by his peers into doing something stupid. Unlike the rest of them, he would not be pushed so easily. At least, he thought he would not.

“Care for a drink, mate?” the tall slender Sniper came strolling in, looking too good for words. He had a bottle in each hand, one for himself and the other offered to the Spy.

Spy’s breath caught as he hesitantly accepted the bottle. There was nothing that got by him, and nothing like Sniper’s looks had ever escaped him. He would absorb it and treasure it forever and always. Knowing that, he was all too caught up in his self-doubt and the mental battle of trying to decide whether to give in a drink it or to continue to be above it all like a good Spy.

No man ever gave Spy this feeling like Sniper. No man ever made Spy want to change his mind like Sniper. Nobody in the world was quite like Sniper, not to Spy.

He was sure that after all these years he would have had his fingers tangled in the man’s hair by now, if not for unrequited feelings. Sniper liked women- nay, Sniper loved women. Like the rest of the team, Sniper had a traditional mentality. If not for his work here, he would be trying to build a family with some girl he met by the lake.

What was worse was that Sniper did not even know what he was doing to Spy. He had no idea that every time he came into the picture, Spy began to gush and sweat under the pressure of his own emotions and desires. He had no idea that Spy even thought of him that way, or even paid attention to how his hairstyle had changed over the years. Nobody on this team even knew.

It was just as well that they would never be able to be together like Spy wanted. They worked together and that made things very complicated. But, in never revealing his feelings about Sniper, Spy could continue to be around him, to be his best friend, and the companion he shared every detail of his life with. It was almost as if they were together, just in the romantic sort of way, where the love of his life shared every tiny aspect he could ever hope for, and accepted things the way they were.

That was more than he could ever ask for or even dream. He would not ruin that. He would not break that for anything.

Of course, Soldier had to come in and ruin the entire moment. The man came over with his own bottle in hand, a big drunken grin on his face, and an eagerness to be as obnoxiously American as possible. It ruined the setting and it ruined Spy’s good time buzz. He was able to get away with not drinking the bottle handed to him, without the Sniper ever finding out.

 

*********************************************************************

 

July 2000

Things were usually simple, Andrew thought. So when they were moved off of the mountains to a slightly warmer climate it should have gotten only simpler. It was the same nine men they would fight every day, and they were going to still be in the cold. It all started with his damned idea to make the fourth of July important again.

He just wanted to make things a little more American. He had been away from civilization and culture for so long that he longed for something American. He was not even sure if they were in America anymore, it was just trees as far as the eye could see. He just could not tell if it was his beloved country anymore.

So he decided he would get some fireworks and decorations to have a party. They would all party and have some fun at their new base. They would enjoy his antics and get drunk together as they had been doing for over a year now.

How wrong he had been. He could not even see how it went wrong. It was so confusing to him. It seemed like one moment everybody was trying to remember what the fourth of July existed for, the next, several of his teammates were trying to kill each other.

Andrew felt absolutely miserable. He just wanted to bring some fourth of July cheer to his friends. He just wanted to celebrate something American, after several years of not doing fireworks and such.

And then there was the forest fire. Not even a day there and they had to deal with a forest fire that started up from his fireworks. Nothing had gone right to Andrew’s plans, not even the forest being too cold and thus too damp to catch fire.

He was scorned by his teammates to his face. And for the following weeks after, he heard whispers and murmurs of just how dumb he was. What a dimwit, they would say. It was terrible.

He was distracted by thoughts on how to fix this when he ended up running into the enemy Demo. Both of their heads reared up as they brought their weapons to bear. A sticky hit his face before he managed to launch three rockets at the taller man.

He was a mere second from losing his face, when a hand reached out, with white draped over it, wrenched the sticky from his face and threw it. He watched in awe as the explosion that would have killed him went off at a safe distance from them. When he looked up at his rescuer, he felt more stunned to see the Spy.

“I’m surprised you don’t think of these solutions sooner,” the Spy stated.

Soldier turned away and shuffled his feet uneasily. He did not want to, but his brain went back to what they had been saying about him. He could not deny it anymore, given how stupidly he had allowed himself to get stickied, when he had used the technique of retaliating with stickybombs before.

“I know…I’m an idiot,” he admitted with a defeated shrug.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Spy look dumbfounded. His dramatic flinch nearly caused the smoke to fall from his mouth. He peered at him with intent uncertainty.

“You’re not a Spy?” the Spy asked.

“No,” Andrew responded sternly.

“Good, because you’re not an idiot,” the Spy pulled out his disguise kit, dragging out a lighter to relight the cigarette that had suddenly extinguished.

“I…er- you…uh…” he was not sure what to say. He thought he should thank the man. He thought he should express that he was flattered. But, none of these things came to fruition in his mouth.

“Don’t act like a dimwit if you don’t want them to call you that,” the Spy stated, before he disappeared.

Why would the Spy be so nice to him, though? Andrew could not figure out that little problem either.

 

October 2000

Things were usually simple at BLU. You fought beside the same men. You fought against the same men. You ate and drank. You laughed and shared stories.

Even a man like Andrew, who could keep his mind on the track he wanted most of the time, could not avoid certain thoughts. Over the years he had been able to satiate himself, as most of them did, with the pictures that were gotten. Some of them snuck out to town to meet with ladies of the night.

And when those thoughts came back, they came back hard for Andrew. No amount of hiding did him well. In fact, when he tried to hide himself, he got a barrage of knocking from some concerned teammate.

His extroverted personality did not help him. He was always very outgoing and tried to talk a lot with people, even if they did not find him friendly.

He had been called a bigot and a racist more than once, but he had fought real racists and bigots. If any of them knew what the true racists and bigots of this world were like, they would not say such things about him, he was sure. He had fought those damn Nazis in the war, and his beautiful America had kicked their asses.

He had fought that war alongside Americans, Frenchmen and even Englishmen. He had fought for every race that existed, be they White, Black, American or other. He had fought for every helpless cripple who had been defenseless against the tyranny of the Reich that butchered them. And he had been one of the many proud who defended the rights of homosexuals to exist.

This was not something one talked about with friends, especially not mercenaries. Homosexuality was not something that Andrew was unfamiliar with, but that was just a stronger reason to keep it all quiet. But being quiet did not make everything go away, it did not make his thoughts quiet, it did not make the Scout stop being strangely handsome.

He was never blind to all of this. This was a fact he knew from a young age. Women were beautifully sexy, but men were handsomely attractive. Both attracted his attention, but since he had been in the closest proximity to the same eight men for the past forty-five years, he had had to force everything down to keep from ruining everything. He did not want things to be awkward, he did not want to be treated as alien, as it had been before he left for the war, and he did not want anybody to see him as less of a man for it.

Cringing in his room, with his head in his hands and his shoulders hunched, he wished the Scout away from his door. He wished they would leave him alone for the day, just so he could try and get his head straight. He did not want to spend the day blushing and explaining away all of his awkwardness, while feelings of insecurity and desire washed over him.

When morning came and a new mission began, he was in despair to find that nothing had changed. He was still having a hard time focusing. Everything was a mix of confused feelings – especially being unsure if it was lust or some small form of love that he had for the Scout. Of course it had to be the handsome little speed demon, who was too caught up in his own cocky attitude to realize when others were just not having his bullshit.

Still, as Andrew loaded his arsenal for the mission, he could not help but think that perhaps he would like to share in the kid’s bullshit. He could put up with him for a day, a week, a month, maybe even a lifetime. He could put up with all of the cockiness and egotistical behavior, if just for a bit of requited affection.

The mission began smoothly. Soldier went straight to defense, taking out all of the contenders for the BLU briefcase. They needed a win, even just once, for a higher morale. It seemed to be working out for them, as BLU Scout and BLU Demo managed to capture the enemy’s intelligence once each.

Then he was taken by surprise by the RED Spy, a devilish man who appeared out of nowhere and stabbed him in the back. What a surprise it was and when Andrew respawned ten minutes later, he came out to find that RED team had already captured their intel once in the time it took him to respawn.

Disgruntled, he snarled and launched himself through the air to his destination. He would guard the next intel carefully this time. He would watch his back as well. He would not afford any chances at RED getting their intelligence again.

That did not seem to baffle the REDs as they started coming at him in small groups. At first he was expecting them, so he was able to fend them off. But, after a while, he started to realize that the group that came got bigger and bigger until it was him verses the entire RED team.

He did not last long against them. And after he respawned he heard the disappointed announcement, “The enemy has the intelligence again! Stop them!”

He set about chasing down the damn Scout who had taken it. The guy was laughing cockily, as he rushed off with the BLU intel. He was fast, but not fast enough to not be squashed like a bug by a soldier launched through the air. He harrumphed triumphantly as he took his prize off the body and turned back to BLU base.

Once again, he found himself alone. This time, there was a Demo in his way, and a Heavy-Medic team coming from the RED base. He did not have time to react before the Demo’s stickies launched him.

He was glad to have been sturdy enough to survive the blast, and hurried back towards BLU base. He already knew what was coming, as he was outnumbered by the enemy. And when the Administrator said, “You failed!” he doubled his efforts to reach the base. The no quarter would begin soon and he did not want to be a part of the first wave of killings if he could help it.

His rocket launcher vanished from his hands, as did his grenades and every other weapon he had. He spent ten minutes running, looking for a place to hide when he felt something slam into his back. He landed on his front, but quickly got back onto his feet. The familiar laughter of the RED Scout and the RED Demo quickly came to him, as they overwhelmed him.

“Heads up!” the Scout laughed, as he flung a man at Andrew.

The flailing figure was too much of a blur for him to realize who it was, before the two of them landed together on the ground. He was dazed for a while, before he realized that there was somebody underneath of him. He was sprawled on top of the BLU Demoman, with the BLU Spy flailing on top of him.

“Nooo!” he heard the Frenchman cried out, but stickies drowned out his voice.

It was not enough to kill anybody, and the three of them became separated from their pile. Andrew picked himself up and looked around. The Demoman was surprisingly injured, and it was the Spy who was trying to get up and sprint away.

With the REDs distracted with the Spy, Andrew hurried to get the Demoman off of the ground. At first he put the man’s arm around his shoulders, but quickly found that there was nothing but mottled meat beneath his knees. He bent and shifted, lifting the taller man to drape across his shoulders.

“Save yourself, lad!” he heard the Scotsman yell, before another blast hit. The same lanky body hit him from behind and he was sent forward.

All he could do was panic and try to think. He felt the Demoman pass over his head as his body was flung forward. They were flung into a pit, all of them unable to grasp at anything but the air.

 

When Andrew came around, he was lying in the mud. His arms and legs were sprawled out, but he felt like he might have been moved to that position. When he lifted his head, it throbbed with extreme pain.

When he managed to sit up, he looked around. It was dark and dank here. His fingers slipped into the mud, only to find concrete underneath. When he looked around, he did not see alpines, only darkness and what looked like concrete walls. That was, other than the two men nearby.

“This won’t do,” he heard the Spy say to the man he was crouched over.

He moved slowly as he made his way towards them. Every part of his body ached, and he could feel the strap of his back brace digging into his skin. It was the worst conditions to sleep in.

“Oh, soldier,” the Spy turned to look at him, with that superior attitude he always had, “Demo has taken the worst injuries. But it seems we have nothing to help him.”

“I might,” he started digging through his things for anything that could constitute as bandages or medicine. There was a flask of hard bourbon and he could make bandages out of some of his clothes.

“It won’t help,” the Demo groaned, “I want to be put outta my misery.”

“We have nothing,” the Spy admitted, with what sounded like a hint of regret.

Demoman sighed, letting his head fall against the concrete and mud. The Spy started to take off his jacket, but the Soldier was already a step ahead of him. He placed his own jacket under the Demoman’s head to protect him from the water and muck.

“Thanks mate,” he received a weak smile from the injured man.

“No soldier left behind,” he grunted in response.

“Indeed,” the Spy put in. It irritated Andrew that the man thought he had to add something to every line.

“Wish I could have it over quicker though,” the Demo groaned.

Soldier hesitated, thinking about his options. If they kept the Demo laying there in wait, he would simply suffer a slow and painful death. They had nothing in the way of weapons to kill him or themselves for that matter. All they had were their bare hands.

He looked at his hands, big thick fingers that had been commented on by many women in the past. He always liked having big hands. They made holding hands feel like his partner was small and dainty, a petite thing, the way he liked them. They were also good for fighting, which brought him to the idea.

“If I snapped your neck, it would be over,” he stated.

“Snap?” the Demo turned his head towards him slightly, as the idea came to mind.

“What are you waiting for?” the Spy growled.

“You coulda mentioned it sooner, ya know!” the Demo exclaimed.

Andrew hesitated with a feeling of uncertainty. He did not like the thought of putting his friend down. Even though he would respawn, there was something traitorous about the action of killing one’s own. He did not want to go through with that.

“Isn’t something I would willingly do to an ally,” Andrew admitted.

“We’re all allies here,” the Spy intervened, “But you have to realize the state of our situation.” His gloved hand pointed up, bringing his attention to the single source of light. It seemed to be a grate, with a sliver of light showing the circular door to the outside.

Rising to his feet, Andrew tried to look closer. It seemed like they were in a manhole of some sort. How they managed to get into such a sewer line, he could never guess. He could not even reach the hole either, with no ladder in sight for them to climb. They were stranded down there, too short to reach their destination.

“They planned our misery down here,” Spy stated, “But if one of us were to respawn, then he could tell the others of this location.”

“Right!” Demo gave the Spy an enthusiastic nod.

Andrew still hesitated. He felt bad for even having the idea. It felt so wrong.

“Soldier,” the Spy barked at him.

He gave in, dropping to his knees beside the Demo. He took his head into two hands, lifting his torso for a better angle. His tongue licked at his lips nervously as he prepared for the quickest death.

“Please don’t make this last much longer,” the Demo groaned.

Andrew took a sharp breath as he snapped the Demo’s neck. The man went limp and he let his breath out slowly. He felt shaky and uncertain of what he had just done. It felt so wrong to have killed one of his own, even if the man had been taken in by respawn.

“Hopefully he was not too drunk to know how to get here,” the Spy noted, rising to his full height. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, lighting up a single smoke.

Andrew found the driest spot and sat himself down on his jacket. It would be a long wait, but he was used to waiting a long time in dark and dank places. It was awkward though, with the silence dragging on between himself and that Frenchman.

He was not sure how long it had been before the foreigner had cracked, “Since when do you have brown hair?”

Andrew hesitated, blinking at the Spy. His hand went up to touch the crew cut top of his hair as he thought about it. His hair had been blond all of his life, but as he remembered, wearing hats and protecting it from the sun could make it darken.

“It has darkened from less sun,” he told the Spy, “I’m still blond.”

“Clearly,” the Spy gave him a once over, as if measuring and weighing him.

Andrew felt irritated by the fickle man, “What color is your hair?”

Spy did a double take, confounded by the question, “I won’t share that information.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, “Hair color is practically meaningless, why would you hide your hair if you’re just hiding your face?”

Spy stopped to think about that for a while. He seemed to be thinking about a lot of things. He was the most thoughtful and intelligent of the entire BLU team after all, taking in more information before making a decision than either the Medic or the Engineer did. He would roll his thoughts around in his head for a good long time before he came up with an answer for him.

“Black,” he finally answered.

“Hmm?” Andrew had not expected to get an answer, let alone an honest one.

“My hair is black,” the Spy explained.

Andrew nodded as the thought slipped into his mind. He thought of the Spy with black hair, tried to imagine how he styled it and how it laid behind his ears. As he began to realize just how handsome the Spy was – even with what few features Andrew could see – he blushed. His face burned with embarrassment as he turned his attention away from the Spy, and tried to peel the man out of his mind.

How was the Spy already getting to him? Was it because they were alone? Or because they were talking? Andrew felt like somebody had stripped him of his armor and left him naked in the mud, for his entire person felt like it was being attacked by these thoughts and frets.

“Are you alright, Soldier?” the Spy queried.

“I am fine,” the Soldier lied, putting on the straightest face he could manage. He was not okay. Nothing was okay. Everything was going wrong.

 

*********************************************************************

 

November 2000

Spy looked out over the battlefield as the war waged on. He could not help but take a moment to realize just how long since any of them had had a win. Over a year, at least. They could not even remember the feeling of victory, they had been beaten down again and again.

Spy had no idea why the Administrator even kept them there anymore. They had already proven that they were all losers now. None of them had made any progress in changing what had happened. They used to fight neck and neck with the RED team, but now they faltered, as if age had finally caught up with them. Perhaps now was a good time to look and see if the respawn was really keeping them young and immortal or not.

Of course, there were some things to want other than victory. For Sniper, it had been a woman. Now the man was saddled with a secret lover that only Spy and Demo knew about. She lived out in town, and he would go to visit her in his camper, with which they would park out by the lake to spend time together.

For Medic, the newest want in the world was to have some new test subjects. All of them had tired of his experiments, and he had tired of the same sets of organs to switch around and play with while they were unconscious. No doubt he had switched out their internal body parts, parts that none of them would have noticed were missing, many times over the decades.

For Engineer, there was a longing to reconnect with his roots. He talked long and often about returning to New Mexico and seeing what had happened to his childhood home, an old cow ranch where caballeros would round up steers for rodeo. He would lament about it and wonder what it would be like to just leave this job and go back to simple living.

For Spy, all there was to want was the smallest change. Everything seemed so predictable now. Every fight was lost almost the exact same way. Every day his teammates suffered nearly the exact same way. Demoman would take the worst injuries to his legs. Soldier would charge off on his own to battle the REDs like he thought he was a tank. Medic and Heavy would retreat too early, making it impossible to make any last minute comebacks. Sniper would get caught by the Spy, unless the RED Spy was bored, then he would meander to base on his own, where some blood thirsty mercenary, usually the RED Scout, would kill him.

If just something would happen, if something would change, things would be alright again. He felt that if something could make this mundane life alter, even by the tiniest fraction, he would be okay. Everything would be okay.

Even Sniper going off to have another love would be okay. The Medic wanting to try a new and dangerous experiment would be alright by him. The team being too pathetic to win a single match would have slipped past his mind and given him no restraint if only something would change.

He noted some voices, some raucous noises, and followed them down to the RED intel. Staying under cloak, nobody noticed him there. He was most interested in the single BLU surrounded by four REDs, Demo, Scout, Heavy and Engineer. They were not going to kill him quickly, rather they were aiming to have a little fun, but the thick skulled American was too bullheaded to see that he had just walked into his own torture trap.

“I am not trapped in a RED base with all of you! You are all trapped inside here with me!” the Soldier announced. In one smooth motion, he pulled two grenades out and pulled the pins with his teeth. He did not throw them or anything, he just held onto them tightly, as if they would protect him from his assailants.

Spy panicked and started to flee. He was too late as the explosion took him, hitting him within close proximity, plus the added debris of body parts that came at him. He was crushed up against a wall, before he finally died. He was sucked into that tube, squeezed into the familiar cycle of the respawn.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew came through the respawn to find the Spy right there with him. He was a little surprised, and covered it with an awkward smile. The Spy responded with an equally awkward smile. Spy had had something to say, Andrew was sure of that, but something had stopped him just now.

Everything had been simple once. He died, he went through respawn. He avoided the Scout like a disease, because that was when the young man was to him. He made his way through everything like it was just another day.

Not so much when the Spy made him fall silent. It was no longer so simple that he could just tell the Spy to grow a pair of American sized balls. He could not find an escape from those intense eyes.

As they smiled, awkwardly, they stared at each other. He could not remember when he had ever actually looked at the Spy’s eyes and seen the color. He looked now to see that they were a brilliant hazel, with an overwhelming dark brown that became bright where flecks of green and blue lit up. His eyes were as mysterious as the man behind the mask.

Everything used to be so simple. Now everything was so complicated…


	2. A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy gets a little too drunk for his own good. Soldier acknowledges that this could be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: No smut will come of any of this fic.

December 2000

Andrew was helping Demo with the crates brought in by the truck. It was the yearly gift from the Administrator. She seemed to want them all shitfaced every year, despite their poor performance. Still, they accepted the booze and made use of it over the holidays.

Here in landfall, it was not as cold and desolate as it was up in the icy fort, but here it was still cold. In fact, it snowed a little. It snowed until the foot of the trees was covered by at least a few inches of the stuff.

After the last crate was put away, Soldier headed off to find the others. Demo wanted him to break the news to them that Demo was setting up to make some specialty drinks, something he only did for holidays. He came upon a scene of grown men acting like absolute children, and he was tempted to join them.

At first he watched from a distance. The Scout was provoking the Engineer and the Pyro, both of whom had teamed up against the Scout in his war of snow balls. The young man did not have the same amount of ingenuity as the respectable Engineer, who made a mechanism that allowed him and Pyro to throw three times as much snow at the youth. Sniper was loping around in the snow, hopping around like he had never seen the snow before, though perhaps it was that it was never a moderate level of snow, given their previous base’s extreme weather. The Heavy seemed like he was almost teamed up with Scout, trying to fight the Engineer’s ingenuity, but it was easy to tell that he was too irritated at the youth to tolerate him being on the same team.

Soldier was not hesitant when the Scout invited him over. He immediately smiled, feeling compelled to join the young man. But, as he went over to him, he did not feel the same wash of excitement as he used to. That was strange to him.

It was strange because he still thought the boy was cute. He still had the same handsome charms as he always did. He still had that cocky smile and that all-too-American attitude. There was just something off about it all that made Andrew uncertain about his feelings.

“Soldier, take the offense!” Scout proclaimed, as he razed the Pyro with snowballs.

Andrew took no pauses as he started creating his assault. It had been a long time since he had played games like this. Hell, he looked like he was in his fifties, but he knew he must have surpassed his own grandparents in how old he was in head and heart. It had been too long since he even saw somebody younger than the Scout, being cooped up in the vicinity of old men who fought each other.

A figure’s shadow caught the corner of his eye. He nearly stumbled as he turned his head. He found that it was the Spy standing in the doorway, watching them like a judgmental cat. He was watching from the safety of a porch, a lit cigarette in his gloved hand and a look of superiority in his eyes.

Andrew shook the man out of his head. He did not need to think about him and what he was like. He was easy enough to figure out. Everything was simple with the Spy. He was a foreign Frenchman, a man who cowered in the shadows despite how bravely his kind had fought in the wars. He was sophisticated, spitting on anything he saw as uncultured and beneath him, especially anything American.

Andrew was American. That meant that Andrew was neither cultured nor sophisticated. He was considerably beneath him, in Spy’s mind.

He turned his attention back to the assault of snow. He wanted to impress the Scout still, or at least he thought he did. He felt important enough to make a difference in this mock war.

 

The next day brought a blizzard. It had been an unexpected turn of weather that kept them inside of the base. It was nice enough, at least from his teammates’ perspectives. Most of them did not want to go out into the cold to fight anyways, so they would rather stay by the fire and enjoy the holidays like normal people would.

Normal people would not be sitting in a corner watching everybody else, like he was better than everybody else, Andrew thought. He had noted the Spy’s presence in the corner, with a cigarette between his lips and that cat-like expression of superiority. It irked him, but he tried to keep his mind off of it.

“Man,” the Scout sighed loudly as he plopped down onto the couch next to the Soldier. Andrew tensed, as the boy stretched out his legs and arms, taking up a considerable amount of room, but also drawing very close to him. “I miss the old days. I miss family Christmas with my mom and brothers.”

“Yea,” the Sniper put in, nodding slowly, “Miss Smissmas with my mom and pop.”

“Used to have quite the holiday at the ranch,” the Engineer smiled, as he reminisced on good old times, “Cup of joe, more holly than you could ever get out of your nose, red ribbons wrapped around every t-post on the fence. And the sweet smell of peppermint and pine.” He paused for a while, thinking about the area around them. “Not like these pines though, it is a different kind of pine smell.”

“Sure could use some good Smissmas cheer,” the Demoman agreed, “Or Christmas, whichever you prefer.”

“Say, anybody remember the old Smissmas songs?” Scout asked, looking around the room at the others.

There was a long silence and some exchanged glances. Sniper shrugged and the Demo shook his head. The others just kind of let the silence do the talking.

“So long ago, I barely remember much,” Sniper finally broke the silence.

The Pyro started talking, but it was difficult to understand him. He could have had a great story to tell them, or could have been singing, but Andrew could not tell. Considering the others gave him silence to speak in, Andrew wondered if he was the only one who did not know what he was saying.

“Heh, ya’ll wouldn’t take to the songs we sang,” the Engineer chuckled, looking down into his mug of coffee, “We celebrated Christmas. And it was pretty religious.”

“They get Smissmas in Germany?” Sniper asked, motioning to the Medic.

The man flinched, giving an uncertain look and a careless wave, “Yea but…not much of my family could afford such a holiday. We just looked over the fence at the other peoples’ homes when they were decorated.”

“Smissmas? You mean winter celebration?” the Heavy asked. When silence answered him, he shrugged. “Mother and girls would have bear meat and make decorations out of weeds. Not big deal holiday.”

“What about you Spy?” Scout turned on the couch to address the man hiding in the corner.

Everybody turned to address the silent figure. He looked around, those intense eyes taking in the room and how it demanded his cooperation. He stepped closer to the light, moving further into view. He was slinking about like a cat, graceful and agile with every step.

“We had no such holidays,” he spoke softly, “Not for my family.”

Andrew sank back as he thought about some of his teammates not experiencing Christmas or Smissmas in their youths. It made him realize how many memories he took for granted. For as old as they were, he treasured every memory at his grams’ house, where he would have hot cocoa and play hockey with his grandfather and uncle. He loved to remember how his little sister had been born on Christmas Eve day in 1914. He enjoyed every thought of gathering with his family for some beautiful meal that was prepared with utmost love, regardless of whether it was a bountiful feast with a roast pig, or a sub-par set of scraps that could barely feed the lot of them.

When he tuned back into the conversation, they were talking about mistletoe. Andrew remembered mistletoe and its old tradition. He had his first kiss under mistletoe, with a girl named Mary Sue, a sweet gal who eventually dumped him because he was not as forward as the football player she went for. He did not mind, she wanted somebody else after all. He still got to kiss her on Christmas Eve.

“Anybody under mistletoe’s gotta kiss!” Scout laughed, with a hiccup. That was when Andrew noticed that the youth was drinking.

He looked about the room to see that Demoman was passing around drinks. They were personally tailored drinks, each of them meant for the man he was handing it to. Sniper got a mug of coffee with the drink mixed into it. Engineer got a straight shot of whiskey. Scout was drinking some egg nog mixed with liquor.

Andrew looked over to see the Heavy plucking some mistletoe off the decorations. He was stumbling about with a drunken giddiness. His big form almost slumped against the doctor as he joked at the man. The Medic was taking none of his behavior, and quickly passed off the mistletoe to Scout. It was surprising to see him so collected, what with how many bottles he had already emptied around himself.

 

*********************************************************************

 

What a tragedy this seemed to be. Spy was mostly just watching from a third person perspective. He had not meant to bring on any sort of his past, but something had provoked him to speak. Perhaps it was that thick drink the Demoman had coerced him into trying.

It had slid down his throat nicely, leaving him to believe he would be fine all the way to the bottom of the glass. But when he found the bottle of the glass, he could barely see straight. In fact, he was not sure if he was keeping himself upright and not tipping over.

When he spoke of Christmas, he felt the burning pain of the past. Christmas was never emotional for him, except that there was no Christmas, and no Smissmas for that matter. He knew all of the songs, he lied to Scout about not knowing any, and had sang them at church when he was just a boy. There had been enough people around to teach him about Christmas and what it meant to others, but no family to give him the experience of what it was.

Some years he thought this might just be it. This little get together with the other mercenaries might well be all he was missing. If that was the case, then he did not really care either way. Still, something had provoked him to mention that his family never really got to celebrate Christmas.

After a few brief moments of sharing that in common with the German Medic, who drunkenly staggered over to clink is bottle against Spy’s glass, he moved on to watch the group from a new corner. It was all so surreal, with the drink in his head. It made him want to watch different people than who he would normally watch. He would usually just pay attention to Sniper or study the Medic and Engineer, in case they did something he could blackmail them for.

But his drunken eyes fell on Soldier. Why? He did not know. But then Scout got a hold of some mistletoe and suddenly got a bright idea. The boy turned to the man next to him, shaking the mistletoe around in his hand, a tiny pair of twin bells jingling between his fingers.

“Say Soldier, anybody sittin’ under mistletoe has to kiss!” the Scout taunted, loudly and with laughter.

Spy glanced around, but noted that most of them were not really paying attention. Most of them had already found some form of conversation to be involved in. Nobody else was really paying attention to the two men on the couch.

Spy was paying attention though, and he saw the Soldier turn bright red as the mistletoe rose over his head. He got so hot that a drop of sweat already dripped down his face. Scout moved his legs underneath of himself, tucking his sprawling appendages up beneath himself, so that he could face Soldier squarely. He was starting to lean in, while the Soldier leaned away.

Spy reacted, feeling a sense of sympathy. No man wanted to be singled out, not like that. No man wanted to feel like he was being put on the spot. Even if nobody was watching them, at least Spy should do something about it.

He was already at the couch before he realized what he was doing. He had not really planned on anything, as he ducked down to the Soldier’s level. The man’s face was burning hot, bright red to the touch. And when he touched his lips against him, he felt his own face turn red hot. He did not press it, or get intimate any further, he just planted a small kiss, if only to steal it from the Scout.

He rose from the Soldier, who stared up at him with wide eyes. The room spun as alcohol settled in and he felt his body collapse into itself. He was not sure what was happening or why, only that he had stolen the kiss.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Soldier could not believe what was happening. Everything happened so fast and without his full attention. He had felt so awkward about Scout leaning in close, that he did not even notice the Spy approaching. The beautiful boy was merely inches away from planting his lips against Andrew’s cheek when the Spy swooped in to touch his lips.

Andrew felt a rush of something primal. A new feeling rose in him as the man’s gentle lips grazed his. A new warmth settled in as he watched the man rise to full height, and then collapse to the floor. He was too stunned to react to all of that.

“Spy?” the drunk Scout looked on with disbelief.

“What just happened?” the Medic exclaimed, leaning over the couch to look at the Spy.

“Looks like a Spy that doesn’t know how to hold his liquor,” Demoman laughed.

“He usually does,” Sniper said defensively. He was the first one to step forward to check on the man’s physical wellbeing. Sniper tipped over slightly, unable to hold his balance properly, “Somebody help me with him.”

Andrew jumped to attention, knowing he was the only man not liquored up. Everybody else would have to deal with a good amount of something in their system. Andrew had been sitting quietly on the couch without a drink in his hand.

“You been drinking, Soldier?” Sniper asked, a bit suspiciously.

“Am sober,” Andrew responded, with an affirmative nod.

“Alright, help me,” Sniper crouched to take the Spy’s arms.

It felt strange to pick up the Spy, who was usually stiff looking in his suit. He looked all business, with the stealth of a cat. Passed out, he was nothing but a sack of skin and bones, just like any other man. Of course, Andrew should have known that, he had stopped to carry the man off the battlefield a few times before.

Still, it was quite a climb to the top of the stairs to what was supposedly Spy’s room. Sniper was not of much help, being too tipsy to keep a safe hold on the Frenchman. Andrew took the man’s full weight upon himself, while the Sniper trailed along to help open the door.

Soldier brought the man to his bed, carefully laying him out over the comforter. The room hit him with a wave of ashy smell, that tobacco that the man had imported from Europe. But everything else looked so neat and tidy that it was hard to imagine that he was not a trained soldier at some point in time.

“Guess he’ll be fine here,” Sniper leaned on the doorframe dizzily, “Take his shoes off though.”

Soldier did as he was told, removing the man’s shoes, but leaving his black socks. He had dainty small feet, almost like a woman’s. It seemed surprising that he was not a woman at all.

“He gonna be alright?” Scout stumbled into the room.

“Yes, you two stay here and watch him,” Sniper ordered, “Don’t let him drown in his own vomit.”

“Aye aye captain!” the Scout gave a mock salute, before the Sniper left.

Neither of them even noticed Andrew take a chair and pull it up beside the bed. He could have just gone downstairs, leaving Scout with babysitting, but there was a feeling of curiosity.

The Scout was there all of two minutes, before he darted off down the stairs to find out what was going on. Soldier was left alone in the room, with the door open a crack, and a passed out Spy on the bed. He felt a bit uncertain of himself, like why he was there and whether he should go ahead and leave the Spy alone. Then he remembered that Sniper had tasked him and the Scout to watch over him, and since Scout had abandoned his post, Andrew would have to do it.

His attention was caught by a slight groaning. He turned his full attention to the Spy, who moved ever so slightly. His eyelids twitched, his mind coming around to attention, before actually showing that he was awake.

“Sniper,” he groaned, “Did- what happened?”

Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but he was startled by the gloved hand that grabbed his hand. It was a small hand that was dwarfed by his own. It was amazingly petite and drew upon his full focus.

“Did…did I…” the Spy was hesitant as he spoke, his hand squeezed Andrew’s, before his eyes popped open. His look of shock shook Andrew for a moment. “Wh- you?” he was flabbergasted.

“Hello,” was all Andrew could manage to say.

The Spy quickly pulled his hand away, embarrassed by the touch. He started to wipe his hand off on his jacket, but then stopped himself. He paused to glance down at his toes.

“My shoes?” he questioned.

“On the floor,” Andrew pointed at them, “You passed out, so we brought you to your room.”

“My room?” the Spy’s eyes went wider when he realized that he was laying in his own room.

“Yes, Sniper wanted you to be most comfortable,” he explained.

“Where is Sniper now?” Spy demanded.

“Downstairs,” Andrew shrugged.

“And you?” the Spy looked mortified.

“I was posted here to make sure you did not drown in your own vomit!” he announced proudly, “Scout abandoned his post!”

“S-scout…” the man’s voice trailed off. His face looked hot, like he had been blushing or perhaps that was flush from the drink.

“You don’t look too good,” Andrew noted.

Spy dropped his head on the pillow, “You would think after drinking such a concoction as Demo can create.”

“You’ll be okay though?” Andrew asked, uncertain of whether to leave the man alone or not. He still had to be sure the Spy would not pass out again and drown in his own vomit.

“I’ll be fine as soon as you are out of my room!” he raised his voice.

Andrew felt his hackles rise and his pride build a wall. He had his post, and it was his duty to serve the betterment of his teammate. He would follow his orders like a good soldier would.

“Negatory,” he responded, “I was given orders to be sure that you recovered safely!”

“And as you can see now, I am fine,” the Spy lifted himself up onto his elbows.

Andrew flinched, noting how much closer the man was to him. It was not by much, but even that small bit felt like a lot. He needed to break the awkwardness for once, and not let silence reign, or do something stupid like he normally did. He would normally say something American or about being American.

Right now, he could only think of something like a joke to make that awkwardness go away, “You also haven’t answered for what you did downstairs.” He put on a crooked smile, leading his way up to the joke. “I don’t normally go for the types that kiss before the first date.”

He watched as those words sank into the Spy’s mind. His expression changed, ever so slightly. He was not quite as tense, but he was not exactly pleased by the joke. In fact, he seemed a bit disgruntled by it, but at least he did not look so angry at Andrew’s presence.

“Kiss?” the Spy finally broke the silence, “What are you talking about?”

Andrew’s smile broke. This was not so funny, now that he found the man did not even remember. Now that he had brought it up, it had to be said, but he probably could have dropped it and the poor man would not have even remembered. His face grew hot as he thought back on how the French gentleman had swooped in to steal that kiss the drunk Scout had been going for.

“It- I- You…” he let his voice trail off for a few moments, looking back at the Spy’s calculating eyes, “It’s nothing.”

The Spy waited, before speaking again, “I am surprised that somebody like you would make such a forward joke.”

Andrew chuckled nervously, feeling the awkwardness of it all sinking in, “W-well, just…um…” He dug as deep as he could go, searching for something in his mind that he could bridge off of, “I’m just going off a theme here. You must have been hard liquored up to come under mistletoe with me.”

The Spy hardly seemed surprised to find this out. In fact, he took it into stride, “A decent amount of alcohol will do that to a person.”

Andrew took this in with a nod, “Still, would have liked to have taken you on a date first. Not much forewarning or chance to enjoy the person if it’s just a peck on the lips.” He was still joking, but for a moment, it seemed the Spy had forgotten the joke.

“Then you’ll just have to take me on one,” he stated, firmly.

Andrew’s face became hot, “Um…hm?”

“You’re the fickle one berating me,” Spy told him, “Take me on a date this Saturday.”

Andrew’s mouth opened but for a while he could not find anything to say. He was stunned by this proposal and felt like he was in a surreal dream. He almost backed out when he remembered that the Spy was drunk, then again, maybe this would be the man’s come uppins for sticking his mouth where it should not be.

“Saturday it is,” he stated, with an affirmative nod.

“I- you-” Spy fumbled with words for a while, as Andrew rose from the chair and made his way out of the room. He did not want to be there anymore, not with the heat in his face and the tingling in his toes.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy sat there for a while, befuddled. What am I going to do, he thought. He had been lying about not remembering. He remembered it all very clearly in his mind. In fact, he vaguely remembered being carried up the stairs, but somehow he only remembered hearing Sniper’s voice, and so assumed that his friend was the one who had stayed behind. He had not heard his friend give the orders for the Scout and the Soldier to watch over him.

He would have to berate him later for that. To have let others into his room and have them there to watch over him was embarrassing at the minimum. The fact that the Soldier stayed behind was outrageous.

He had been pleasantly surprised to find that the Soldier had some sense of humor. The man knew how to break the ice, though he was awkward and timid about it. Spy had never noticed how shy the man truly was, though perhaps that explained the façade of shouting Americanisms at people, especially foreigners.

Though, it seemed Spy had overestimated his sense of humor. Perhaps there was a line somewhere that he had crossed, because somewhere along the way the Soldier had forgotten that the conversation they were having was a joke. He had taken Spy’s words too seriously and had accepted an invitation for a date.

“A date?” he asked himself, scratching his scalp through the balaclava. He had not had a date with somebody in well over five years.

It would not be too difficult to set up a date. He could arrange a location and manage what they would do. He could even find ways to impress his date, just by reading them as he went along. But that would all be too complicated, it had to be much simpler because this was the Soldier he was going with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named the Soldier too soon. He's already become adorable to me. He's not stupid, he just suffers PTSD, ADD and probably a slew of other problems. These contribute to him appearing stupid for so long.


	3. Everything Changes on Christmas/Smissmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper confronts Spy because three members of the team are acting weird, and he does not like that.  
> Scout confronts Spy about the incident from the Christmas/Smissmas Eve party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I went to fanime and that was awesome. (I was the freelance Medic at the meetup)  
> Then I got sick. And that was terrible. I have been slow on working on all of my fanfics.

The next day was spent in relative silence. Soldier did not talk to anybody. Spy did not seem to talk to many people either, though that was usual for him, being the secretive type. Though this time he was not taunting the Scout like he tended to do off-handedly.

The storm had cleared and that meant that the nine mercenaries had to get to work, despite the holiday. They suited up in warm clothes before they headed out with their weaponry. They aimed to kill the REDs and take the intel.

Andrew would usually have charged off against the REDs on his own, but this time, he stuck close to the Heavy and Medic team. They were doing well with gunning down the enemy, so he added some support with whacking anybody who got too close, or shooting down the RED Sniper when he showed his horse-like face.

He had a lot of thinking to do. He had never thought so hard about something, even after the fact. Now he was thinking back to the proposed date and he was feeling less and less confident all of the time.

Surely this had easily tipped off the Spy that he was homosexual. He did not even know if the Spy was homosexual himself. He could only pray that the man completely forgot about everything, having been so wasted that he waddled over to kiss a teammate in front of the rest of the team.

“Come on, Soldier!” he heard the Scout shout out, “You’re off your game!”

He raised his head to see the cute boy running past along a rooftop. He was reloading his shotgun as he headed for the enemy beyond the RED Heavy. He seemed off to Andrew, but maybe that was just because Andrew was looking at him from a different angle. Though, when he thought about it, over the past decades, he was sure that he had seen the Scout from nearly every angle on and off the battlefield, except for the ones that had distracted him before.

Thinking about the Scout laying on his bed with a cocky grin made Andrew blush. He got distracted and took a few too many bullets to the chest. Unable to do anything about it, the Medic abandoned him there, determined to keep the Heavy on his feet.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy was not sure he wanted this date. For much of the battle, he planned out in his head how he would get the Soldier to see that it was all a joke, to decide on his own that this was just an elaborate ruse. Then he would pretend that he was in on the Soldier’s joke, as if it was his own jest in the first place. This would create the least amount of conflict between them.

But the day dragged on, and the RED mercenaries fell. BLU mercenaries fell much faster, and it was obvious as to who would win. Yet, something was very different, something had changed.

Upon respawning for the last time, Spy realized what it was. As he stepped back out into the cold alpine forest air, he heard the wailing scream of the wild Soldier. Normally he would have balked, but something was different. Something was unnaturally changed about the rhythm at which things were happening and why they were happening. Things had changed.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Sniper hung up his rifle with an indignant huff. Things felt different today on the battlefield. Even the humiliation round seemed different, like half of his teammates had taken up new strategies. His focus had especially been focused on Scout, as the boy tended to need a little guidance around the field, but he had noticed Spy’s low kill count and Soldier’s odd behavior.

The Scout was always cocky and ran face first into things, but not like today. His face was red today. His mouth was cocked into an angry snarl, sometimes showing his teeth. He used his shotgun on every man he could see, but he was getting worse with his aim than he would normally be. He blundered through moves that Sniper had seen the boy do flawlessly a million times before.

Spy was typically one to be sneaking around to find information, feed information and stab backs. He was known to get in and out of the RED base easily, getting in to help the Scout get out. He was also known to sneak into the RED Sniper’s nest to stab him, taking him out of the fight. Otherwise he was sapping the RED Engineer’s equipment, something that was often requested of him, when he would rather be collecting the intel.

Then there was Soldier, a man who was known for his loud outcries and exclamations about America. He was the epitome of American pride. He was always loud, always moving around the battlefield, and Sniper usually got a kick out of the random ways he got himself killed. But, the man was being careful, hesitant and overall calm. He was not even screaming as he went around killing, saying nothing about his beloved country or how the enemy did not belong there.

Sniper did not like whatever it was that had changed things. It had not changed much of the results, they still lost, though they came much closer to winning than they had in longer than Sniper could remember. But he did not like that his teammates were acting out of sorts, because that left him without knowing how they were going to be working.

He turned to see Spy tossing some things into his locker hastily. He closed it just as quickly and hurried off. Sniper followed his friend, hoping to corner him off and talk to him in private as they normally would. Spy never liked talking in the open where others could hear, wary of any man being a Spy, especially the RED Spy.

When they were out of earshot of the respawn, Sniper checked around. Seeing that there was nobody in the halls with them, he decided to call out to him, “Hey Spy! I know you can hear me behind you.”

The Spy turned abruptly to face him. It took him by surprise, as he had expected the man to go a bit further before picking a better spot. He had to be annoyed to turn so soon to face Sniper in the hallway.

Sniper inhaled sharply, feeling uncertain about the confrontation that was about to happen. Spy was not one to raise his voice to Sniper, but of all the looks on Spy’s face, that was the look he had when he was about to raise his voice in anger. He had just a few moments to react before things went the wrong way.

“Think you could explain to me what’s going on?” Sniper asked, not as carefully as he had hoped.

“About what?” Spy demanded. He did not raise his voice, but his voice had that angry tone in it.

Sniper could not be sure if the anger was directed at him or not, this could not be a good thing for him. “Well, everybody’s been acting out of sorts on the battlefield.”

“Like what?” Spy asked, pulling out and lighting up a cigarette in one smooth motion.

“Scout?” he offered, “The boy was way out of sorts.”

“He is an idiotic child,” Spy growled, “What would you expect?”

“Okay then, what about Soldier?” he added, “He didn’t scream once. Couldn’t track him anywhere he was being so quiet. Not only that but he must have stuck with Medic for more than half of the entire battle today.”

“Everybody’s hung over,” Spy waved off Sniper’s suspicions with a casual flick of his wrist.

“Not Soldier,” Sniper pressed, “He did not have an ounce of drink last night.”

He saw the Spy hesitate at that. He turned his gaze, from a little to the right of Sniper to directly at his eyes. Intense hazels measured him, searching him for any chance of a lie or blunder.

“Was the only sober man last night who could carry you up the steps,” Sniper went on. His mind went back to that whole event last night.

While the others were aware that the Spy had collapsed, what the Medic dubbed was likely due to dehydration, most of them did not pay mind to what had happened. Scout was there, sitting on the couch. The awkward Soldier was there, and since he did not ask for one, Demo did not give him a drink. And Sniper would have missed it all if he had not noticed his friend strolling casually across the room.

He had seemed so in control of himself, so in charge of what he was doing. It was not until he went face first into the Soldier that the expression he gave up showed any of his lack of forethought on this. Sniper had thought that he was going low to whisper something to Soldier, something he had done many times to Sniper. But, it was the collapse under his own weight that really got Sniper’s attention, and his concern.

After rushing to his aid, he had not had the forethought – considering his drunken state – to leave somebody capable to take care of Spy. If he had been sober he would have taken care of the man himself. But in the end, he needed to go talk to the Medic about the alcohol content the Demo had given him.

When Scout came down the stairs, Sniper still did not have the mindset to think about who he had left alone with the Spy. But, he had become distracted with interrogation. The Scout then went on to tell him, after sobering up a bit, that while Scout was being a jokester, Spy came in and kissed the Soldier right on the mouth. Nothing too personal or intimate, the Scout had assured him of that. But then the Spy had simply risen up to collapse onto the floor.

It had taken him too long to realize that he had left the Soldier alone upstairs. The Soldier had long since arrived at the party by the time Sniper thought to head up to check on Spy. By that time, the man had locked himself in, ignoring all attempts to get his attention from the other side.

“Spy, you were with Solder last night,” he added.

“I did not notice whether he was drunk or not,” the Spy shrugged.

“Drunk or not, he was acting completely out of character,” Sniper snapped. He was growing really tired of this, and now his mind had gone to the events of the night before. “Did something happen?”

The Spy flinched at that, probably remembering the kiss he gave the Soldier, “No.”

“Don’t give me that, you pecked him, not the other way around,” Sniper said, sternly, “And you were the one drunk. Did anything happen last night? Anything I am not aware of?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Spy growled.

Sniper sighed with irritation. He paused to pull his hat off with one hand and run his other hand through his hair. He needed a drink and a better approach to this.

“Look, how about we talk this over with drinks,” he offered, “I don’t want to put you on the spot or nothing…and I don’t mean to sound accusatory…but I see everything on that battlefield. I know you know just about everything on that battlefield too. So let’s just have a sit down this Saturday and-”

The Spy cut him off with a short flick of his wrist, “I have plans.”

“Plans?” Sniper was taken aback with surprise. It was only Thursday and the Spy had managed to get plans?

Though, now that the thought about it, which he felt guilty about needing to think further about it, Spy could put anything together. He could put together a lie in moments, spinning a web of stories that anybody would buy until they were believing in ghosts and unicorns. He was also a sociable creature in the best times, and liked his social outings. But in the past few years, Sniper had not seen the Spy interested in anybody, let alone any of the women in the two cities they could reach within a reasonable time by road.

“Yes, Sniper,” the Spy’s tone grew dangerously angry, “I can have my own plans. It is called having a life, are you not familiar with this concept? Oh…right, you have the girl.”

“Don’t talk about my Sheila,” he growled. He had not seen his bride in so long, he had forgotten how long it had been since they had moved out here from the icy fort.

“Well, you have yours,” the Spy pulled the cigarette from his mouth, “And I have mine.”

“A Sheila?” Sniper asked, with confusion.

Spy rolled his eyes and turned to leave. Sniper leaped forth to grab the man’s shoulder. He was not done having a conversation and needed to sit down with him. That was the best way to get information out of him, by simply sitting him down for a deep conversation, rather than trying to talk around his training in small talk.

Spy kept going, yanking his shoulder free easily. He was a bony man, too slender for Sniper’s large hand to get a grip of. A muscular man like Heavy would be easy to take a hold of, but the Spy was petite like a woman, and used that disposition to his advantage whenever he could.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy felt so invigorated, with adrenaline pounding through his body, after the confrontation. It was thrilling to feel like a winner again, even over something so trivial. It felt like he had conquered his feelings though, those lingering affections for the Sniper that left him so mad.

As he made his way to his smoking room, he changed his thoughts from Sniper to the date with Soldier. The idiot was the biggest combination of ignorant and egocentric he had ever met in this country, but in the package of a killer mercenary. How could he ever find anything in common with the greatest bigot he had ever known? That would be a challenge in itself.

Perhaps he should plan. The least he could hope for was to try and enjoy the evening. He would have to plan for a few bumps along the way. He was certain that certain trails of thought would have to be avoided, meaning that certain lines of conversation would have to be diverted at all costs.

He put that aside for later, as he enjoyed a new smoke. He had blown through his cigarette on the way to his room. Fuming tended to do that to him, while he enjoyed smoking while angry, it irritated him that he went through the pack fastest when he was frustrated. Still, he lit up a new cigarette and prepared new plans for Saturday’s meeting with the Soldier. He would try to enjoy himself at least, though the more he tried to figure out how or why, the less he understood how he would ever enjoy himself.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew slipped through the door to the big mechanic workshop as quietly as he could. Glad to see that neither Pyro nor Engineer were around, he tiptoed to the key rack, where Engie always left the vehicle keys, to snag just what he needed. Knowing he would be stopped if they found out he was sneaking off to town, Soldier rushed to the closest truck and hurried out of the mechanic workshop.

It was Christmas, so he imagined people might have already bought up everything on the shelves. But he had to try and make something of Saturday. It was all he could do to keep himself from freaking out, just focus on a task.

When he did actually pause to think about it a little bit, his heart started to race. He had not been on a date in decades, and he was going to go on one this Saturday. Granted, Spy was not his type, too sassy, too much attitude, and very high class. He put himself above others and seemed to have a bit of an attitude that was more than a little off-putting.

But that meant that there were things about the Soldier that Spy probably found off-putting too. Andrew frowned at that thought. He did not want to think of himself in that light. But, he would have to plan for that. Conversation was not his strong point, so he might need to think of better ways of speaking to the Frenchman, than in lingo that he was familiar with.

He also needed to think above the Spy. He needed to think of a high class date. Popcorn at the movies just would not cut it if he wanted the Spy to have a good time. And he was sure that he wanted the Spy to have a good time. That was all he could think about when he took Mary Sue to the movies, or when he took Elizabeth to the ice rink, or Samantha Bean to the carnival. There were a few other names of girls he had taken to dances, parties, fairs and dates, while all he could think about was their good time. He would be damned if he broke the streak of good times had.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy was interrupted in his thoughts by a ra-ta-tat noise on his door. He was thumbing through a magazine he was preparing to order from, one the Administrator was not to know that he even had. It was something modern, with the kinds of things he might well need for this little date. He could not and would not entertain somebody while he was trying to plan his time with the Soldier.

“Go away!” he shouted at the door.

The door opened anyways, “Hey Spy?”

He rolled his eyes as the young Scout came into his space, “What part of go away did you not understand?”

“Yea, about that,” Scout closed the door behind him and strode towards his chair. He was watching the boy from the corner of his eye, as he flicked through the magazine. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”

“Me?” the Spy raised a questioning eyebrow, sparing the Scout a momentary glance of annoyance.

“Yes you!” Scout spat, angrily.

“I don’t know what you’re upset about,” Spy licked his thumb and turned a page. To Scout, the magazine looked like nonsense, which he was glad for.

“Oh really? You don’t want to explain what last night was all about?” Scout demanded.

“What about last night?” Spy kept his eyes on the magazine. He was growing impatient with the young man though.

“Where do you get off barging in like that, huh? Who are you to come…poking in to ruin what somebody else has been building?” Scout demanded, angrily.

“Scout, what are you talking about?” Spy was genuinely confused. He tried to think of what might have ticked the boy off, but he could not remember much, so he would have to say the drink made him forget.

“The kiss, Spy!” Scout spat, “That little kiss you put on Soldier!”

It hit Spy in a wave. At first he was relieved to know exactly what it was that was pissing off the Scout. That was immediately followed by a feeling of distraught, remembering that he had done that right in front of the Scout. This was followed by thoughts about how he had intentionally stolen that kiss from the Scout, thinking that the boy should not put people on the spot like that. And then, it all clicked together and he was hit with a massive realization that Scout had been into the Soldier all this time. Being drunk under the mistletoe might have been the boy’s chance.

“Last night I was drunk,” the Spy admitted, “I don’t remember much.”

“Yea? Well you better remember! So I can beat the memory out of your head!” the boy balled up his fists.

Spy got off the armchair in one quick motion, getting his arms out in front of himself to bat away the boy’s fists. He came swinging left and right, thinking he could just take the Spy on in his own domain. Thing was that Spy knew this room better than any, and Spy had plans for confrontations like this. Not that he suspected things would happen, but he was a man for planning ahead.

So when the boy thought he was making the older man scared, he was actually being drawn closer towards a table, which Spy could use to put distance between them. After a bit of dancing around that, Spy drew him towards the hearth, where he could get a hold of some long metal tools, typically used for cleaning out the ashes and debris. Before the boy knew what was happening, he was smacked across the head with the broad side of a shovel so hard that he fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“That was easy,” Spy noted, replacing the tool. He stopped to brush away any ash that might have gotten on his suit.

He considered the Scout for a moment, slumped on the floor at his feet. He was puzzled at the younger man’s response to him. It all made sense, yet it did not fit his previous assessment of the team.

He began to pace the room, with a feeling of worry. All of this time had been spent thinking about this all wrong. Somewhere along the way he had missed something about the Scout at least. Perhaps he even missed little hints from all of his teammates, that was even more worrisome. But to look back at decades of working with these men, and think that he had been wrong about them all along, that was unthinkable.

He noticed the young man stirring and turned his full attention to the situation. The man moved a little bit, but he did not move to get up. He had yet to open his eyes to try and get his bearings. It might well be a while longer before he did that.

“Are you quite done with rash decisions?” Spy crouched next to the youth.

He got no response, but waited patiently. He thought about fetching the Medic, but that would require that they both explain what happened and why. Medic was always so thorough with reports about skirmishes.

So he decided to let the boy simmer in the pain he was suffering. It would be good for his character, and probably give Spy a hand in dealing with the American. So he remained there, crouched at the Scout’s side, waiting for him to come around.

The young man shifted his head, trying to look around at part of the room. He looked dazed and confused, as if he had forgotten where he was, or how he had gotten there. When he pressed his palms to the floor to start rising, Spy got to his full height and put a threatening foot on the Scout’s back.

“Slowly now, mon ami,” he warned, “Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself…or give somebody the wrong idea by moving too quickly.”

Scout tried to look over his shoulder up at Spy, but failed. He eventually slumped back onto the ground, waiting for Spy to remove his foot. When Spy did remove his foot, the Scout moved slowly, inching his way off of the floor and onto his knees. He was hesitantly wary of the Spy, who stood nearby but behind him, at an angle he could not easily reach.

“So what is it about that drunken incident that has you freaking out?” the Spy asked.

Scout snarled with disdain, “You freaking stepped in! I saw you! I watched you! You just came in to ruin everything! Like you always do! You think you’re so smart and so clever and shit. But you’re really not, Spook!”

Spy tried to pick his words very carefully. The boy had a fragile mindset, emotional and ready to fly off the handle with his actions. Spy did not want to risk further injury to himself or the boy, lest the consequences come for him.

“So tell me then…” he watched as the boy patted his palms on the thighs of his pants, brushing away dirt, “What kind of interest do you have in the Soldier?”

He circled around the Scout, moving farther away from the youth. Further assessment had led him to believe that Scout was not armed with any long distance lethal weapons. He tended to carry shot guns and long blunt objects, not stealthy small pistols that could be tucked away. There was no need to fear him, so long as the Spy was out of his range for a hand-to-hand fight.

“What? No!” Scout exclaimed, his face heating up with a blood red undertone, “It’s n-nothing like that! No!”

“Then the mistletoe incident?” Spy pressed, “When you were picking on the Soldier…what was that about?”

“I…you…” Scout’s face started turning red. He had obviously not expected this conversation to go this way. Should have thought about that before tangling with a Spy. “It’s nothing like that though!” Scout exclaimed, throwing his hands up defensively.

“I’m listening,” the Spy spoke with a patient tone in his voice.

The Scout shifted his weight uneasily. It was obvious that he did not want to have this discussion, especially not with the team’s Spy. And he might well be preparing lies, based on the way he licked his lips and his eyes darted around. Suddenly, he gave a sigh, the kind of sigh that only enemies who had been beaten into submission would give.

“It’s not like that, okay? It’s just…I like Soldier…in a non…relationship kind of way. It’s not like I like like him. I just like him. We’re pals…in a sense…and I get the sense that it likes me. But I can never tell if he’s begrudging of me, or…snarling at me. If I’ve messed up and pissed him off…or anything like that. And…last night…” The boy trailed off, his face turning redder than it already was.

“What of all this could tie to last night?” Spy asked, a bit puzzled as to how this whole thing between Scout and Soldier escalated.

“L-last night?” the boy swallowed a lump and licked his lips nervously, “Last night I was drunk. Demo was getting everybody hammered fast so he wouldn’t have to keep mixing drinks anymore. I got hit hard and I got an idea…that I guess…in hind sight…it’s pretty…um…stupid.” His face was downcast with shame.

“I can relate, I was also very drunk last night,” Spy admitted, “Things were said and done during that get together that most probably regret. But I would not hold that against anybody. Most all of us were drunk, as we’ve needed to get a load off of our chests.”

“Soldier wasn’t drunk,” Scout’s head popped up.

Spy quirked an eyebrow at him. He was the second person to have noticed that Soldier was not drunk. First Sniper, now Scout. Perhaps he should have been paying more attention last night to what was going on. He would have preferred that Soldier be more drunk, then he could have forgotten it all happened, or perhaps chopped the whole incident to being a stupid dream that never happened.

“Soldier didn’t drink anything,” Scout explained, “He was just sitting there all quiet like he usually does. Minds his own business. Let’s everybody do what they do. Just let the world go by, is what he does mainly. I have a lot of respect for him you see. And it’s hard to get close to somebody who gets close to nobody, so I thought…”

“You thought what?” Spy pressed. He noticed that the boy was cringing under his gaze because he was being a bit too high haltered for the boy. He was practically glaring down his nose at the youth, while Scout kneeled under shame and whatever else he was feeling.

Scout slowly moved to get up, scrambling from his knees to his feet. His face did not rise from the floor, as his gaze returned there in shame. His cheeks remained a hot sultry red.

“I didn’t mean for things to get weird, or anything,” Scout said, with a weak voice, “I just…was drunk…and didn’t have my wits. Sure it was stupid, but at the time I was thinking of just…getting close to him.”

Spy tested the option of taking a step closer. The youth became warier of him, leaning a bit backward, as if he wanted to move away. He held still though, careful under the Spy’s watchful eye.

“I am sorry I took that from you,” the Spy said, putting some genuine feeling into his practiced tone, “I did not intend to get between you and the Soldier.” That was an outright lie and he knew it, as his intention had been to steal the whole thing from Scout. “But, perhaps this is a hidden blessing? You’re not actually interested in the Soldier, so preventing something as awkward as that to a man who’s possibly the most conservative of us all?”

Scout was silent for a moment, looking Spy in the eyes. Slowly, he started to shake his head. He did not believe Spy’s words, even with the calm and authentic sound to it.

“You…me…we had alcohol as excuses,” Scout spoke slowly, “That was my plan the whole time. Just lie and say I don’t remember. Just pretend it was all a drunken hoax and have it as something to look back and laugh about. But Soldier? He was sober. He was probably the most sober off of the battlefield that I had ever seen him. Engie and him always have drinks. He always gets something from Demoman. But last night seemed to be an exception…and he was sober enough to knock anybody down…but you knocked yourself down. He did not so much as respond.”

“He was in shock,” the Spy offered. He felt a little nervous as the boy touched on some of the details of the incident.

Scout shook his head again, “Nuh uh. I’ve seen shock. Sure, he was surprised, but not shocked. He wasn’t appalled like a man would be being kissed by a man. I’ve seen that. I’ve witnessed that. A man like Soldier would have beaten you ‘til they pried you out from under him or he sent you through respawn. And then he would have stalked you today to do it again.”

Spy was feeling his stomach settle down towards the floor. His heart was moving with it. Everything inside of him felt sick and distorted. His intestines felt like they were flopping around wildly. And all of that was because of the Scout’s words, as the boy put everything together like this.

“Soldier should be raving mad right now…” Scout’s voice was slow, but strangely calm. It was an unusual sound, coming from the young man from New Jersey. “But all I saw was confusion,” the Scout went on, “And he didn’t act normal. He didn’t act like himself at all today.”

Spy felt his face go pale. He had not really paid much attention to the Soldier during today’s fight. True, Sniper had told him that there was something off about the man’s behavior, but it did not seem like something Spy had to pay attention to. He had had Sniper on his mind, after all.

Scout turned to him squarely, this time not flinching away. He did not cower or cringe, or make himself seem smaller in any way. But there was something like wonder or confusion in his face, lighting in his eyes. The curiosity made Spy wonder just how old the Scout actually was, as he seemed to have held onto that child-like mindset he had when he was much younger.

“I…don’t feel like I know Soldier the way I thought I did,” Scout finally stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of stuff to catch up on for starting my job, so I will be slow on some of the next few chapters. Hopefully I will pick up on speed in updates.  
> Don't worry though, I don't intend to put it on hiatus or to stop writing it.


	4. Friday After Christmas/Smissmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Friday after and both Spy and Soldier are thinking about plans for their little date. They deserve to at least enjoy that.  
> Soldier bakes some treats and spends some unexpected time with Scout.  
> Spy is confronted with Sniper again, and the reality that Sniper does not really know who his 'friend' is.

Morning was early as usual. Coffee in the camper was pleasant, followed by a brief stretch of the legs. He returned to the base for breakfast as usual, making himself something of the usual eggs and bacon variety.

There was no newspaper, like there used to be. The Administrator banned those. Because Sniper knew why, he cared not to question it or push it with the woman. He just wanted to have some peace, so he settled for old newspapers and old magazines. Today’s selection was a newspaper from 1972. It was a local paper from the nearby town, which had actually blossomed into a city since this issue was published.

“Good morning, Sniper,” Spy addressed him as always.

He was only a little surprised. Spy was a person who followed very few habits, keeping his routine mostly vague, but for some reason he liked to be up at the same time every morning to greet Sniper. He could only think that it was because they were good friends. Why else?

“Mornin’ Spook,” he snapped the paper open and picked up his coffee.

Their morning moved forward with breakfast as if nothing had ever happened. That would have been eerie to him back in 1972, before he got to know the Spook better. The man had this eerie way of doing things, but Sniper had learned to roll with those ways. What he used to take for ‘ignoring the problem’ usually meant it was being dealt with in silence. And given they had had few fights in the past, he did not want to start up a new one just to ease his mind about how the Spy was going to deal with this fight they had.

“G’morning mates!” the Demoman came stumbling in. He was a man without routine too, but that was mainly because of the alcohol, which kept him guessing at what time of day it was. He would be late to work all of the time if it were not for his teammates keeping him in line.

“Morning,” Sniper nodded in greeting, as the man stumbled past the table to fetch some coffee from the kitchen.

“Aha!” he heard the Medic, as he, the Engineer and the Heavy walked through the door. They seemed to have been deep in conversation as usual, and two of the three seemed to have gotten no sleep. “If we synthesize the parts, imagine what the whole result will turn out to be!”

“I reckon so,” the Engineer giggled. He had a strange fascination for the sciences that the doctor concocted, so he usually obliged in offering his knowledge and assistance in whatever he was required to do.

“Morning,” Sniper caught their attention.

“Ah! Good morning, Herr Sniper!” the Medic greeted, with that big creepy smile. It always made Sniper want to frown, because it was the kind of smile you saw in nightmares.

“Ah, I’ll get started on something, and you work on those blueprints,” the Engineer waved at the Medic, before he headed off to the kitchen.

“Ah, very well,” the man got right to spreading blue sheets across the table.

“Doctor, this is not good place for paperwork,” the Heavy protested, pointing at the table, “Where we eat? There’ll be syrup and everything on it!”

The Medic took a second look at the table, scrutinizing it curiously, “Oh…I suppose so.” He almost sounded like he had not thought about it.

“Besides, taking up more than your share of space at the table is rude,” Spy noted, flashing the Medic a glare.

The Medic glared back, unhinged by the Frenchman. Sniper had always dubbed the two as the types who would go neck to neck in a fight if given a chance. Sniper had had to get help to remove them from each other in the past. They never liked each other, but that did not mean that they could fight like dogs and kill each other whenever they wanted, there were rules to being on RED team. Those same rules applied to BLU team.

Sniper paused as the night of Smissmas Eve came back to him. The two had seemed fine that evening. Spy was acting like his elegant self, up until he collapsed under the weight of his drink. Medic was being mostly friendly with everyone, which was mostly how he was when he had gotten a few drinks into his system. Nobody could get him quite drunk though, not drunk enough to need help getting back to his room.

The two were similar in some ways, Spy typically could hold his drink well, and Medic could drink everyday like it was Oktoberfest. They both hinted at some poor family, unhappy childhood backstories, though neither of them went into depths about those. They seemed to be about the same age, probably in their early fifties.

Then it hit him that they were only friendly towards each other when they were drunk. The laughable thought gave his shoulders a shake, as he pondered how odd it was that they needed drink to get along. It was when they were sober that they would spit and fight with one another.

“Something funny?” Spy caught his attention.

He raised an eyebrow and spat out a lie, “Just lookin’ at the funnies in the paper, mate.”

He used to find it weird, annoying, creepy and unsettling how Spy always kept watch of him. He always had Sniper in the corner of his eye, even when he was studying somebody else. But that eerie feeling of being watched always lingered because of that. Sniper could not get away from Spy’s gaze from any angle.

He had eventually learned to accept it. This was the way Spy handled things, keeping a close eye on people, and never letting others out of his sight. He would never expose his back, not like his foolish enemies. Spy was clever, and while he seemed to keep friends like Sniper close, he probably kept enemies like the Medic closer.

“Same old pictures,” the Spy grumbled.

Suddenly, the doors flung open and Soldier came stamping into the room. Under his arm was a white box, with ribbons tied around it. It looked like a fragile thing that would collapse under his thick muscular arm.

The helmet on his head was tilted back, just enough to show his eyes as they swept the room. He had fallen silent before his usual, loud and obnoxious morning greeting to the team. They paused over Spy then dropped as he backed out of the room.

When the door closed behind him, Medic and Heavy burst into raucous laughter. Sniper could only look on, as the two slapped each other’s backs and shared a hearty laugh. Neither could seem to control themselves.

When their laughing started dying down enough for him to hear himself speak, Sniper decided to ask, “What’s so damn funny to you two?”

“Soldier’s still freaked out,” Heavy chuckled heartily. The big man’s entire form was shaking with laughter, even as the sound died down.

Medic was wiping tears from his face, “Yes, too bad Spy never makes such faces. It would be priceless to see them both so embarrassed!”

Sniper frowned, sparing his friend a glance. Spy did not seem too bothered by this, slathering a new piece of toast with butter and jam. He did have his mouth shaped into something of disgust for them, but he did not give them any lip or encouragement.

“That would be funny,” Heavy agreed, his laughter slowly building back up.

“What would? I don’t understand,” Sniper lied. He half got the joke, but had not made any connections as to why they thought Soldier’s face had been so funny, and what that had to do with Spy.

“The kiss,” Heavy snickered.

Sniper frowned again, “Oh.” He snapped the paper and returned to reading it.

“Didn’t know you were so jealous of the Soldier, Sniper!” the Medic turned on him, leaning a hand on the table. He had a devious smile spread across his face. “Why don’t you just lean over and kiss him then?”  
Sniper frowned over his paper, but did not give him a verbal response. He did not need to dignify this. There was no reason for them to be treating him or Spy this way. They were acting like children anyways.

“And what about you?” Spy asked, casually. He took a graceful little bite of his toast, chewing on it before his eyes rose to meet the Medic’s.

“What about me?” the Medic rounded on him, defensively. That was a problem, the Medic’s quick and hot temper.

“You and the Heavy…always together…like stars truck lovers,” the Spy spoke calmly and cooly, but Sniper could almost see the twitch of a smug grin on his lip, “It’s only a matter of time before we find out you’ve been doing more than making out together down in the infirmary.”

The German’s face was red, with anger, hatred and embarrassment. His ears were so hot that Sniper imagined steam coming out of them, like a little pot. The Heavy on the other hand had a sense of humor. He slapped his chest and bellowed in laughter, his entire being shaking. Of course the man who would joke about kissing the Medic would be fine with a joke about them having sex in the infirmary.

Sniper blushed at that thought. That was a giant leap in logic to make. He could feel his ears burning as he tried to pull his mind completely away from the idea.

“Oh ho ho!” the Heavy smacked the Medic’s back as he turned to him, “You should see your face! So red!”

“Nein! Shut up!” the Medic turned and stormed from the room, quickly followed by his laughing friend.

Sniper chuckled, wanting to rid himself of that awkwardness. That all seemed weird, bizarre and disgusting to him. Even if one of them were a woman it would be at least a little bizarre. Maybe not so much, now that he thought about it; if one of the mercenaries was a woman it might not be so bad to be intimate with them, he thought.

“You still laughing at the funnies, or did you absorb that at all?” the Spy inquired.

He peered at the Frenchman curiously over his paper. The man was regarding him, hands loosely folded in front of him, with the elbows poised on the table. If Sniper did not know any better, given that this was just how Spy was, Sniper would have thought that the man was flirting with him.

“It was…odd…that’s all. People laugh when a situation is odd,” Sniper shrugged.

“Ah…” the Spy sounded almost disappointed by that response.

“Hey doc I-” the Engineer came into the room with three plates, only to find that his companions had disappeared.

“Sorry, Engie,” Sniper quickly switched his attention over to the other man, “Kinda chased ‘em out of the room with jesting.”

The Engineer nodded, his hard hat bobbling with his head loosely, “Alright then. I suppose they’ll probably come for food sooner or later.”

“The doctor is probably just…embarrassed,” the Spy said, rising from the table to clean his dishes, “And his lover is just calming him down.”

The Engineer raised a questioning eyebrow, looking to Sniper for an answer. He went about setting the dishes on the table, unperterbed.

Sniper swallowed his voice and shook his head. He would not speak up and risk saying the wrong thing about this Spy just seemed like he was pushing the whole thing, especially with the Medic out of the room.

 

 

Andrew took a deep breath as he set the box on the table of his workspace. This was usually his area for cleaning guns, but those were put away and the table had been wiped down. Everything was clean and ready for him to prepare what he wanted to.

He wanted to use the kitchen, but that seemed to be busy for now. He would have to make his preparations here in his own space. He would work with what he had, even if it was meager.

He gently lifted items out of the box, placing them carefully on the table. Much of what he had here would be baked into a nice dessert, but he wanted to practice first. He had a few new cookbooks, with things he wanted to try. He would have to try them out first though. He did not want to ruin anything by being a doof.

And that was what he did during the entirety of his free time. Of course he was on time for work. He would never be tardy. But as soon as he was off the clock, he headed back to his own space and returned to baking.

Since he did not have access to the kitchen without others’ prying eyes, he utilized some tools, like a blow torch. It browned the top of a dessert nicely. It was actually kind of fun the way he could make the desserts look, and he wanted to keep baking and cooking.

Eventually he had to try the foods he cooked. He tasted them, but was not entirely sure. The Spy was known for his particular tastes, which made him a very picky eater. He would not touch something that was unappealing to any of his senses. They were delicious to him, but maybe he needed a second opinion.

He got an idea when he heard the scout laughing nearby. He was in one of the rooms down the hallway. He sounded like he was listening to one of his radio recordings about the Red Sox. The boy loved the team so much that he really did not care how many times he had already heard these recordings, or if they were not what was happening now with the team, because they were all he had. His collection of items were all the boy had of his favorite baseball team.

He grabbed the desert tray and headed down the hallway. He paused at the half open door to knock on the doorframe. There was a shuffle as the boy turned off the headphones and headed to the door.

“What do you want?” the boy was asking as he swung the door open. He saw Andrew and stopped, the door still in hand.

Andrew looked down at the food in his hands. The boy looked to it too, a bit confused.

“Er…what is that?” the boy asked.

Andrew’s face grew hot as he looked over the tray, “Crème Brule, meringue mushrooms, quiche and a…an apple tart display.”

He stood there, feeling awkward and weird under the Scout’s gaze. The boy was silent for a long time, making Andrew feel out of place. He immediately regretted this, wishing he had not even thought of approaching the Scout.

“Come on in, man,” he was surprised by the boy, as he stepped aside to admit him.

He took a couple steps forward, but did not go far. He was still feeling awkward, despite the invitation to enter. He was not sure about the boy’s expression.

Scout closed the door behind him and turned to him, “So…what’s all this?”

“They’re food,” Andrew stated, looking at the tray with a feeling of confusion. Could the boy not see and smell them? Had they turned out that badly?

“No. I mean…did you take up cooking or something?” Scout asked.

Andrew shrugged, “Sort of.” He hesitated, shifting his feet. “I’m not sure if they’re any good. I just used a blow torch and assortment of other tools for cooking,” he explained, “So, maybe you’d like to…try them?”

Scout gave him a look of surprise, “Whoa…I didn’t even know you could cook man. I didn’t know anybody other than Engie and Frenchie even took interest in baking.”

Andrew looked at the food on the tray again, “It wasn’t easy, but I used to feed myself and my little sister. I just tried some new recipes. But…I don’t know if they turned out any good.”

“Let’s see,” Scout dipped his fingers right into the first thing he recognized, the apple tarts. At first the boy was tasting his fingers with a critical look on his face, then his eyes widened with surprise.

“Is it…that bad?” Andrew winced. He barely took the moment to notice how cute the Scout looked with his fingers in his mouth.

“It’s delicious!” Scout exclaimed, “Man! I didn’t know you were such a good cook! You did this with a blow torch? How come you didn’t use the oven in the kitchen?”

Andrew managed a small smile, his face still hot with embarrassment, “Well, I didn’t really want anybody to know I was making it. But…I am used to army rations. I couldn’t tell you if this quiche was burnt or not.”

Scout hesitated, pursing his lips. He leaned over the tray, as he perused the foods available there. He pointed to the pie plate with the quiche in it, “Is this the one you’re talking about?”

Andrew nodded, unable to bring himself to say anything more. For a long time, he just stood there, while Scout asked questions and tried each dish. Then, Scout finally got the idea to get silverware, running off to the kitchen to bring back forks, spoons, and a pair of plates. He set up a nightstand as a miniature table, where they set the full tray of foods. Then the Scout split up the foods, placing some on their plates.

They ate these until they were too full to eat anymore. They fell over themselves, sprawled on Scout’s bedroom floor. Every once in a while he heard Scout groan in pain, yet he still tried to nibble on some of the food on his plate, balanced on his distended belly.

“I dunno how you did it man,” Scout groaned under the strain of his stomach, “But you made the best quiche I have ever tasted in my life! Like…and these desserts? Man…I can’t imagine what else you’re planning on making. Or like…what these were even for? I guess you being you, you didn’t really think about that. You just set your mind onto something and you did it. That was all there was to it, huh?”

Andrew turned his head to see that Scout was smiling. He turned his head to meet Andrew’s gaze. Looking at him like this, it was difficult to think. It was hard to imagine that some weeks ago his heart would have twisted into knots at the idea of being alone with Scout like this, in his room this intimately close.

Andrew shot up like a bolt, as his face grew hot. He felt so embarrassed, his thoughts twisting him out of sorts. He held his breath as the Scout slowly sat up to look at him.

“You alright, man?” Scout asked, scrunching his brow into a look of concern.

Andrew nodded his head slowly, not wanting to say anything. He was not sure what would happen if he spoke. He was not sure his voice even existed anymore.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy had just hung up with the theater, when a knock came at his door. He sighed and wished in silence that it was not the Scout. “Go away!” he called at the door.

“Spy,” the door opened, admitting the BLU Sniper, “Just need a minute of your time.”

“Oh, Sniper,” Spy held a tone of sarcasm and irritation on his tongue, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Hah,” Sniper gave a sarcastic chuckle in response, “You never specified anything about that…date you have.”

“You really want to know?” Spy put a tease in his tone, added by a laugh.

“As a friend…I’m genuinely curious,” Sniper offered.

Spy raised an eyebrow at him, with a suspicious frown, “Genuine curiosity in the life of a man of espionage?” It was not really a question, just a statement of disbelief.

“Yea, well…maybe we actually have something new to talk about,” Sniper offered, taking a few steps closer to the recliner, “Something new in common…other than the nine REDs and seven other BLUs that die every day.”

“I think not,” Spy felt a muscle in his jaw twitched, but quickly repressed it. He was growing annoyed with Sniper in a way he never had before.

“Well, like,” Sniper sounded a little desperate to explain himself, “What’s she like? How did you meet? Is she from the next town over? Or did she come closer to meet with you? Stuff like that, mate.”

Spy narrowed his eyes at the other man, “I think you’ve missed what I said. I said no.”

“Come on,” Sniper pressed, trying his hardest to drag something out of the Spy. Spy rose to his feet, not wanting to be at a disadvantage by sitting, as he was already at a height disadvantage, being one head shorter than Sniper. “I’m really trying here.”

“I appreciate that but not in this case,” Spy insisted, raising a hand as if to stop him, “I am going to have a private outing with somebody, and I will not be sharing details. I am not one of those…men out there. I don’t share my information willfully.”

“So you need a bit of pressure from a torture contraption?” Sniper joked, offering a crooked smile.

Spy almost cracked, his heart screaming in agony under the pressure of that smirk, “You’ll find my training has made me impassive to all forms of torture.”

Sniper’s mouth dropped into a frown, “Lighten up, will ya? You’re acting like this date is a miss- wait. Is this just some mission? Is that why you’re being secretive? I mean, if that’s the reason, then I get why you’re being secretive about it.”

Spy should have said yes. He should have told Sniper that this was exactly what it was. That way the man would stop pestering him and asking him questions.

But Spy dropped a bit of honesty, “No, it is not.”

“Well then, at least tell me something about her!” Sniper gave an indignant scoff, “What friend doesn’t share at least a little information.”

“Why would I?” Spy’s eyes narrowed again.

“I’ve told you everything about Melisa,” Sniper quipped.

“That is in your nature,” Spy nodded slightly. He suddenly felt bad for saying that the Sniper had a big mouth. “You share these things with your friends and colleagues,” he almost ended on friends, but quickly saved himself by adding the last word. He would never be so presumptuous as to call himself the man’s friend to his face.

“Spy, I don’t talk to hardly anybody on this base,” Sniper explained.

Spy paused, as the sentence did not sound quite right to him, in a grammatical sense. It hit his ears in an unfamiliar way that usually on the Americans’ voices did. He finally shook his head.

“You speak with Demo and the Engineer,” Spy argued.

“And the Medic and the Heavy,” Sniper nodded, “But only for small talk, which I’m terrible at. I only really share stuff with you. None of those guys know much more than the rumor that I have a girl. You know her name, what she looks like, and where she is from. You seen her picture too! I wouldn’t ever share that with anybody else!”

It was hitting him hard to listen to this. It made his heart quiver in its cage. He ordered it to be still, but it refused his request.

“I am an espion,” he said, putting emphasis on the French word for Spy.

“Yea? So?” Sniper pressed, growing a little frustrated.

“It is my job to keep everything secret,” Spy explained.

“But this isn’t work,” Sniper pressed, “We live this way every damn day. That doesn’t mean we can’t have our own lives! We gotta have our own lives!”

“It simply doesn’t work that way,” Spy replied, simply, “You have the luxury of putting down the gun at the end of your workday. My job is not so much a career as it is a lifestyle.”

Sniper sighed, “I mean…is it so bad to share a little?” There was a sad squeak deep in his throat. It made Spy’s heart leap. “Like…what color is her hair? Is she a brunette?”

Spy hesitated, feeling his gut and heart sinking. It was a terrible feeling that brought back memories of the years he spent fawning for this man. There was no point in going back to that though, he would get nowhere with the Sniper. He would always be fawning for him with no response. He could only let that go and try to move forward with him as a friend.

“Blond,” Spy replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just hug the Spy right now? T_T


	5. The Date of Soldier and Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day begins but the date starts earlier than Andrew had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving this story. Andrew is so cute.  
> This chapter has been me putting a lot more thought into what makes Spy a Spy. Not in terms of what he does, more like in terms of where he is from and what he has done. What made him into a Spy, and what brought him to this point. How does he relate to the Soldier. And they have quite a bit in common actually.

Having the day off made everything easy. Andrew got an early start, or at least as early as he could manage. He had hoped to get to the kitchen without anybody there, but when he went to preheat the oven, he found that the Medic was already awake and using things in the kitchen.

He returned to his room and began setting things up. He would just bake things the way he had done the day before. It seemed to work out before, with the foods being edible enough for Scout to not get sick off of them. So, perhaps they would be passable, and show the Spy that he at least made an effort.

He was deep into his work, when a knock interrupted him. He was surprised, not expecting a knock on his door in the middle of the morning. He set his things down and removed the apron before he headed to the door. He hesitantly opened the door to peer out, not wanting to give the person on the other side a clear view of his room.

He was surprised and even embarrassed when he found the BLU Spy on the other side. The man smelled freshly of ash, as if he had just recently smoked, but he had no cigarette on his person. He had a stance that was unique to him.

“Ah, greetings Soldier,” the Spy raised a hand in gentle greeting.

Soldier swallowed his nerves, “Ah…Spy…” That was it, that was all he could manage to say. He felt like a coward.

“I was…unsure of what time or location we would be meeting,” Spy explained, with a gesture of his hand. It strangely brought Andrew’s gaze to his fingers, which looked deft and easy to fit into his own hand.

“I…er…” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing himself to overcome the cowardice holding him back, “I was just…working on something…for this evening.”

“Oh…alright,” Spy quirked an eyebrow, “Perhaps you could be ready to leave around noon? If you are not busy?”

“At noon?” Andrew rubbed his sweating palms on the sides of his pants, “Sure. Erm…what for?”

“Traditional American date would be…a visit to the local theater, no?” the Spy asked, though Andrew suspected that the man did not need the answer, just justification.

“Affirmative,” Andrew responded out of instinct.

 

Soldier was surprised, but not necessarily confused. His plans would have to alter a bit, but he figured that perhaps it would be the best to roll with whatever the Spy had planned. After all, the man had a clean car ready for this, with a sheen that bespoke of recent care. There was even a brand new air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. He might not be sitting in an American brand, American made car, but he could appreciate the care that went into it.

“You like movies?” Spy asked.

Andrew grew more nervous, but his tongue moved without his volition, “Yes.”

“Good,” the Spy let out a breath.

The sound surprised Andrew, and he looked over at the other man. He looked at ease as he always did, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift. But there was something about the breath that spoke of a much different feeling.

Andrew cleared his throat, turning his eyes away. He did not want to seem rude by staring. He was sure that the Spy of all people would hate that the most.

“Do you know what this is?” the Spy asked.

When he looked over, he saw that the Spy did not move. He kept his eyes on the road, almost sternly so. His hands were steady on the wheel and the stick. Andrew could not figure out what he was referring to.

“What do you mean?” he asked, puzzled by the question.

“This…outing…” Spy spoke hesitantly now. His nervousness was apparent now.

It hit Andrew and he almost smiled. It was not a smug feeling, rather it was a feeling of recognition. He knew that feeling well and he wanted to smile at the Spy to offer some comfort and understanding.

“This is a date,” Andrew stated, blatantly.

There was another breath, this time of relief. This time the man loosened his grip on the stick, something Andrew had not noticed before.

“What kind of date?” Spy asked.

Andrew felt heat rise to his face, taken off guard. He was not sure what kind of question it was. He was not sure how to answer it, as he was not sure how to categorize a date.

“What do you mean?” he asked, hoping for clarification.

“What kind of date is this?” Spy pressed.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Andrew shifted on the conditioned leather seat, “A date is a date. Isn’t it?”

“Well…maybe a different question,” the Spy’s fingers started to move, thrumming against the stick under his palm.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy glanced sideways at the man, trying to suppress the physical symptoms of his nervousness. He could hardly suppress the heat in his face as he questioned the man on the passenger seat. The man seemed so calm and rested, with a slight smile on his face. Every once in a while, he thought he detected a twitch or a redness to the cheeks, but for the most part the man seemed relatively relaxed.

He tried to settle his twitching fingers, “What do you think of women, Soldier?”

The man hesitated, his hands rubbing against his pants. Now he was showing some fidgeting signs of nervousness. That made Spy feel a bit relaxed, leveling the playing field just a bit.

“Women are beautiful, petite creatures,” Soldier answered.

Spy cleared his throat, finding that the answer fit right into his expectations of the Soldier, “What do you think about men?”

“About men?” the Soldier hesitated.

Spy braced himself for a loud announcement. He was not entirely sure what the Soldier would say about men, but he had some ideas. He was overdue for shouting about something, so he suspected that the man would start up now.

“Men are strong, well-focused, musky and…beautiful,” the Soldier replied. It was weird to hear him say these things, with an insightful tone of voice.

Spy felt the words rolling through his mind, while he tried to find some words to use. His instinct wanted to make small talk, but he felt taken aback by the man’s words to the point that he could not formulate the right words. This was contrary to everything Spy had ever thought of the Soldier, contrary to all of his background research on the American. It was contrary to his behavior and his lifestyle. It even felt contrary to the answer he gave to the prior question. It was like he was a different man, or pretending to be.

“Is that the honest answer, Soldier?” Spy asked.

“What about you?” Soldier asked, “What do you think of men?”

Spy flinched, his face filling with heat, “I…me…er…”

Soldier cleared his voice again, “You um…” He suddenly fell silent, as if regretting everything.

Spy could regret nothing now. Everything had fallen into place better than he could ever have imagined or hoped. And this was the Soldier, there was no way this should be happening.

“I was a Marine for the United States, from 1922. I went to serve in Poland from 1941, and was moved to France in 1943. The goal of America’s involvement was to end the violence against people of certain races, of certain mindsets, and to free people to love who they desire without the threat that the Holocaust inflicted,” Soldier explained, with a surprising level of thoughtfulness to his words, “I don’t claim to be a cultured man, or well known in what exists in those places I was stationed at, so French isn’t something I know next to anything about. But, I fought for my right to care about who I want however I want.”

Spy was silent during this rant, both shocked and compelled to rethink his opinions about the Soldier. He mulled carefully over the man’s words. It was structured in a way that seemed right to the Soldier, talking about his work as an American, though he framed it so differently. Spy’s breath caught at the ending line.

“So…whatever your thoughts or preferences are…” the Soldier motioned to him, with a large finger, “It is your right to be, just as much as I have mine.”

“Y-you’re right,” Spy replied, hesitantly, “So then this…”

“If you are worried because we are men – mercenaries who have spent the past several decades working together and killing other men – then you have nothing to worry about from me,” the Soldier stated, “And if you want this to stay quiet, between you and myself, then that it will be.”

There was silence between them, but Spy was grateful. He never thought the man could be this thoughtful. Perhaps he had estimated poorly in thinking that he was a screaming heterosexual American. Of course, it was hard to think otherwise, that seemed to be who he was, despite his words.

“D-do you have anything to say?” the Soldier asked, hesitantly. It seemed to be his turn to be nerve wracked.

“No- well…” Spy hesitated, glancing over at the man. Soldier’s head was facing the road, giving it his full attention, but his green-blue eyes kept darting his way nervously.

“Thank you,” he procured a response.

Soldier finally nodded, deigning him to silence. The rest of the drive was just like that, moving along the road in silence. The only noise they listened to was the rumble of the tires on dirt and rock and pavement, as well as the faint noise the radio made when turned all the way down.

When they arrived to town though, Soldier seemed like he was right at home. He hopped out of the car and took a deep breath, like he was taking in the town deep into his lungs. He put his hands on his hips as he looked about, curious as to what location they had pulled up to.

Spy watched cautiously while locking his door, as the man took in the steak bistro they had arrived at. It was the most decent thing Spy could think of that was also American. Surely the Soldier had to approve of this.

“You come here too?” Soldier turned to ask.

“Not often,” Spy lied. He had only been there once, to talk to the manager and make sure the food was up to his standards for this particular outing.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Soldier sighed, “I’m not allowed in town without another Mann Co personnel with me.”

“I see,” Spy grew wary at the man’s words. That spoke of trouble. That meant that he was on the watch list for danger, like the Pyro. “But you like it here?” he asked, hoping to get a satisfactory answer.

“Affirmative,” was the automated response.

“Let’s go inside,” Spy started towards the door. He was taken by surprise when the American rushed to his side and grabbed him, looping their arms together.

He did not have long to take this in. He did not have long to decide how he felt about this. He only had a few seconds as his step was extended to get through the door and meet the greeter.

He could not believe how hot his face felt. It was embarrassing, but he was not sure that he was actually embarrassed by being led along like this. But perhaps he could be, since it was the Soldier who was doing it.

“Welcome!” the greeter smiled.

“Table for two under Jacques,” Spy composed himself as he spoke.

“Alright,” the woman quickly searched through the names on her list, then grabbed two menus, “Right this way please.”

He noted that the arm holding his was a bit stiff, the muscles tensed like taught musical strings. He moved a bit slower now, since they were inside the building. They followed the woman together, but Spy got the feeling that Soldier was not really paying attention to her.

When they arrived at the table, they were seated across from each other. The woman handed them each a menu and asked them what they would like to start with. Given that this was a date, Spy ordered what he always would, a red wine. He gestured to the Soldier, not wanting to put the assumption forward that he would accept wine.

“I will have the same,” the Soldier immediately barked.

The woman nodded and headed off to fetch their glasses and wine. They were left to their own silence, with the soft hum of people talking around them. Given it was lunch time, it did not have the mood lighting that it would have, if it were dinner time.

Spy cleared his throat, and that prompted the Soldier to speak again, “This is nice.”

He almost chuckled at seeing the man’s face turning red. Now that they were facing each other, it was easy to see. Soldier’s face was expressive. And most of all, it was not snarling or sneering, it had a gentle straight line at the lips, with the occasional twitch towards a smile. His facial muscles were relaxed, taking on a more pleasant appearance, that did not necessarily speak of enjoyment. His eyes though were the loudest in what they had to say, and Spy was surprised that he had never noticed them before.

His eyes were a bright color, blue at a passing glance. But when he looked more closely, he saw areas where blue turned to green, and the two colors clashed like shards of glass forced together. He could get lost in that swirl of color and its natural pattern.

“Are you nervous, Soldier?” Spy asked.

“No! Yes. Maybe?” Soldier’s face stayed red and his eyes turned away nervously. He was definitely uncertain about all of this.

“Are you confused then?” Spy asked, uncertain of what way he should take the man’s actual words.

“I am not confused,” the Soldier’s voice dropped to a growl, “I fully know where I am, what I am doing, and why I am here.”

“Why are you here then?” he asked.

Soldier’s back straightened more, if that was even possible. He seemed to take on a more rigid appearance under the contemplative questions. It did not help that the large Adam’s apple on his neck gave away his dry swallowing clearly.

He started to give a hesitant explanation, “Because-”

“Here’s your glasses and your wine,” the waitress interrupted them.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was so relieved when the waitress returned. He wanted to crawl under the table he was so nerve wracked. And then that French snake started crawling under his skin with those questions. It was like he was in the Soldier’s mind, listening to him squirm under the pressure.

The moment his glass was placed in front of him, after having it filled, he almost started gulping it. He needed something to wet his throat with. Wine was not for that though, wine was for sipping and tasting.

He looked at the Spy and then the wine. Spy was like wine. He was an older man, he could tell of that from little hints over the years – mostly gray hairs that had peaked out from having no time to shave. Aged like wine, yet still sleek and spry like a young man was. He was refined and well-groomed, with a taste that required a patient tongue, not one that would take him in all at once.

This thinking helped him calm down. When he finally did take a sip of his drink, he gave a small smile around the rim, studying the Spy over the edge. The Spy set his drink down hastily and gave an appreciative smile to the waitress before she left. Perhaps they had both needed something to wet their throats.

“I am here, mainly out of curiosity,” Andrew explained.

“Curiosity?” the Spy blinked at him, with surprise.

It felt nice to catch the man off guard for once, “Yes.”

“Curious…about what?” Spy asked, tentatively.

“About you,” he leaned forward a little bit, lowering his voice. He did not want to draw too much attention to them, in case anybody was listening to their conversation.

The Spy’s balaclava covered much of his skin, but some of the skin that showed started to turn red. “Me? What about me?” the Spy pressed.

“Tell me about yourself,” Andrew proposed.

“Like what?” Spy still acted stupefied as to what he might want to know.

“Anything,” Andrew shrugged, “You still haven’t told me what you think of men…or women. I like both.”

The Spy started chuckling low beneath his breath. There was something like disbelief in his eyes. When he finally cleared his throat, he looked like he was going to give a speech.

“I like men…exclusively men,” Spy explained, “I like men who are rough around the edges, the kind that turn into…soft kittens.”

“Turn into soft kittens?” it was his turn to be confused, and the Spy delighted in that.

Spy’s eyes averted, but his lips had a self-satisfied grin, “It’s an answer.”

Andrew nodded, but did not press the matter. He had a feeling that he either did not want to know about it, or it was inappropriate to say here in the restaurant. He took a calming sip of the red wine again.

“What else would you want to know?” Spy asked, “Not that there is much I can give?”

“What can you give?” he asked, hoping to come to a compromise. He did not want to ask inappropriate questions, or things that crossed the line for such a secretive man.

“Not much,” Spy admitted.

Andrew hesitated, taking this as his chance to explore with questions, “Do you like…kittens?” He figured the topic moved appropriately off of what Spy had said before.

“Kittens?” Spy hesitated, blinking at him, “I suppose I do like kittens. I prefer cats mature though. But…a small ball of fluff is something I admit to enjoying.”

Andrew smiled at that. He liked kittens too. He liked puppies as well. When he thought about it, there were not many animals he did not like. Except for Archimedes, the doctor’s number one bird, whose time was often spent meddling in his master’s work and making pains for others.

“Do you like…” Andrew paused for thought, trying to think of another question.

“Do you like the wine?” Spy asked, motioning to the glass Andrew had been sipping from.

“Yes,” Andrew nodded in affirmation.

“Good,” Spy gave him a calm nod, “I would not like to think that you were only drinking it because you could think of no other drink, or because you were trying to impress me.”

That smug smirk made Soldier’s skin boil. Why did he have to be so damn smug? It was as if the Spy was recovering from all of this and returning to what he truly was, a sneaky snake.

“I am not a man without tastes!” Andrew raised his voice, a bit angrily, “I can enjoy the finer things if I want to! My work has required that I stick to the rations and harsh conditions in which we have grown accustomed to. Being one with the war does not mean I cannot enjoy a soft tender kitten!”

When his hands came down on the table, one landed on a hand. He blushed, his eyes meeting sharp hazels. His gaze moved down to his hand, which now covered the Spy’s leather kid glove.

Spy slunk back in his seat, but in a way that allowed his hand to stay very still. He seemed very uncertain of himself at the moment, or rather uncertain of Andrew’s temper. He would not move if it meant angering the Soldier.

“You do not know me as you think you might,” Andrew lowered his voice a bit, hoping that nobody was looking at him. Because he would not dare to look at them.

Spy leaned forward now, lowering his voice, “Your name is Andrew Swanson. You grew up in Middlebury, Montana. You are a proud American veteran, having served in the Marines against Germany. You earned no awards, even though records show you probably should have received a purple heart. You wear thin glasses when you read, though that is the rarest sight. You do not pay much attention when people are speaking, but that has less to do with your intelligence than people write off. You suffer delusions and hallucinations at times, hearing sounds that are not there and blacking out during sessions of battle. You are loudest when you are trying to pretend they are not there, because you try not to show the physical effects of your PTSD. You strive to be the best on BLU but you continuously fall short of destroying everything we work for.”

Rage built up in Andrew. There was a rage like he had not felt in decades. He wanted to leap over the table and grab the Frenchman by the neck. He would call him all of the names and more. He would make him feel sorry for dragging him here and saying those things. Then he would make Spy drive him back to base and then never speak to him again, because he would never listen to the creep’s words again.

“But, then again…” the Spy’s voice softened to something less harsh, “You’ve carried more men off of the battlefield than any on BLU or RED, living up to your legacy of having saved so many in the previous war. You keep your mouth shut when it is not your business, and only intervene when it is a violent situation. You have many quiet tendencies, but mostly because nobody notices. And you’ve got quite the situation with our own Scout.”

Andrew’s face was red now, but he could not get up. He could not stand up and try to strangle the man now. He could not bring himself to lift his hands off of the table. He could not even bring himself to speak to him.

“Do you know that the Scout likes you?” Spy asked.

“Likes me?” Andrew wanted to melt into the chair and vanish into thin air. He wanted to die and never come through respawn again, knowing that Spy had learned his secret and put the pieces together about his crush.

“Platonically of course,” Spy raised a defensive hand, the one that was not covered by Andrew’s hand, “He has some…issues…perhaps relating to his past family life. But, you seem to have become a father figure to him.”

Andrew wanted to die so hard that he would be wiped from memories. He wanted to bury his face and make it vanish off of his skull. This would be the best time for some Merasmus wizard hippie to pop out of nowhere and distract everybody. Maybe he would cast a spell that would make Andrew disappear for life.

The hand beneath his wriggled and he responded by moving his hand. He would not hold Spy there, when there was no reason. But the leather gloved hand leaped at him, snatching his hand before it could leave him. He stared at the hand holding his, mesmerized and confused.

“The boy likes women exclusively,” Spy explained, “But…” Spy looked at the hand he was holding and ran his thumb in circles over it.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy was barely able to suppress the shaking. He had taken a shot, and it had missed its course. The insult had not passed the Soldier, making him outraged. He looked like he might leap over the table, or just destroy it, to get to Spy and kill him.

The man seemed to be calming down though, listening as Spy attempted to stroke his ego. He tried to use only what he definitely knew about the Soldier, some things of which nobody else knew about because they had not bothered. He had been curious that a man who had accomplished so much on the battlefield, with the evidence existing even in Mann Co’s files, was not a decorated warrior.

Now came the part where he opened up. His heart pounding, he planned out his words down to the littlest syllable and how it would be spoken. He could not give away the wrong information, meaning information he could not afford anybody to know.

“I am a Spy, my name is eternally hidden from everybody, even those closest to me. I grew up in North France, and trained from a very young age to work with the French Armed Forces. I worked in Belgium from 1914 to 1917. I was sent to Germany then to Spy on the enemy’s leaders to find their weaknesses and bring them down. When the war ended in 1918, I thought I might be able to start a new life, a somewhat normal life, despite being a Spy. I freelanced until 1939 when I was asked to rejoin the army against the German forces. I joined the Allied forces, moving all around Europe to gather information on movements of the forces and later on the scientific practices…of which I stopped three different studies that would have resulted in torture. I destroyed their research. And when the army was done with me, they simply dropped me off where my family home once stood, with nothing to my useless name.”

He had to stop himself. He could not believe he was saying all of this. He had only meant to say a little bit, just to show that he could relate to the man’s military background. They had both fought in the second war. But Spy himself had also aided in the First Great War. And all of this came out with so much emotion, especially at the end, when he thought about the flat of land, with a scar on the ground where the house used to be.

The Soldier looked down at the table, pondering everything he was saying. Spy fell silent though, not wanting to give away more information. All of that had been a lot. He could not imagine who would be spying on them, but he would not put it past his enemies to find something within that little bit of information.

“Things change when you come back from war, don’t they?” the Soldier had a somber tone of voice.

“Yes,” Spy dropped his own gaze, his heart feeling quite heavy hearted.

There was silence between them for a while. They were like that, silently holding one hand. It just seemed to stagnate the entire conversation.

“Are you ready to order, sirs-” the waitress seemed caught up when she read the situation.

“Another minute please,” Spy told her. She nodded and silently left them.

There were a few more moments of silence between them. This somber silence of pondering on the past felt too heavy for this situation. They were on a date, they were supposed to be enjoying their time.

“This isn’t supposed to be a mourning occasion,” Spy stated, pulling his hands away. He needed some release from the personal contact so he could try to lighten his own mood. He only hoped he could bring the Soldier back up.

He painted a smile across his face, trying to show the Soldier a brighter mood. He wanted to bring the two of them out of this weird turn the date had taken. This was not what he had planned to do at the bistro.

When he saw that the Soldier’s mood was not going to brighten, he decided to change the topic, “Shall we order?”

Soldier grunted in response, looking almost like a kicked dog. Spy’s heart sank as he realized that he might have brought on some poor memories for the other man. The Great Wars, the current war, the places he fought in…

“Perhaps skip lunch and go to the theater?” Spy offered.

Soldier shifted in his seat, looking awkward, “I would probably just make things weird there too.”

Spy opened his mouth to speak, but found no words to say. At least, nothing in English. He had a list of responses in French that came instinctually from his distant past.

“I- I see…” Spy took a calming breath.

He summoned the waitress to ask for the bill. After paying for the wine, they loaded into his car and took a long silent drive back to the base.

When they stepped out of the car, the door closed over Spy’s apology, almost drowning out the words. Soldier barely acknowledged his apology before disappearing into the base. It was probably the only time Spy would ever see the man walk away from him in a formal suit and tie.


	6. Well This is Going to be Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and the Spy make amends, but it might be too soon that things are going to go smoothly.

Andrew found himself coming back to the projects he had left behind. He got out the supplies and ingredients and started working again. He did not really think about it too much. He just focused on making everything the way he made it the day before.

What was all of that that had happened back there, he wondered. Why was he such a moron that he could not even sit down and have a meal with the Spy? Was it the pressure? Was it the bistro itself? That could not be it, Andrew remembered liking that place before he was forbidden from going to town alone.

When he finally thought more about, actually putting some thought into what was happening in the restaurant, he realized that the Spy was reaching for something. He thought he felt something genuine from the Spy. For a moment, their hands were together, his larger hand held by Spy’s, as they reminisced on old times. Sure they did not know each other, but it was something they had in common, and this was a strong thing to have in common.

He dropped the spoon on the counter and blinked at the batter he was stirring. Spy had gone to war. Spy had been in two wars. He was French and thus was with the French Armed Forces, but he was a part of all of that. He was probably some sort of officer once. He probably could have been a decorated officer if not for the secrecy of his class. And then that ending.

Spy had gone home to nothing. There had been nothing there waiting for him. No family. No hugs. Nothing to cherish.

Andrew remembered going home to find everything looking the way it was supposed to, but nothing had been the same. The house was just as white and clean as it always was, but his family all acted strange, wildly different from his memories. The old pub did not hold the same kind of people anymore, none of the classy top hats and the workmen from the fields, instead holding grungy types looking for trouble. The school had been torn down, replaced by something bigger and new, which was a nice kind of new, but it no longer held any of his cherished memories from school, just before going into the army.

He remembered trying to walk through the streets, not yet changed into civilian clothes, to be greeted by hooligans and hippies, shouting and throwing things. He remembered that the day he arrived home was the day he was introduced to such a person, a hippie. And he did not like the dirty smelling cretins one bit, especially given that they chose not to have a bath, while he and his men had fought for a chance for some grub.

Long gone were the old dirt roads that went through the small town. Long gone were the feelings of being welcome in that town. Nobody wanted him there it seemed, nobody but the men at the pub, who either wanted him to spill his every sorrow or to show them he could kill them. And he did it once, he killed one of them.

He could never go back. That was what had driven him from home. Though his mother had been kind enough to offer him a free home, he had had to flee for his life.

“War changes men,” he sighed, “War changes life.” He looked at the spoon and the reflection of himself. He was not the man he once was, not even the same as when he joined Mann Co.

He wondered how much Spy had changed over the years. From being on the first war, to being in the second war, to being with nothing but freelance work, to Mann Co. This was their lifetime job, which said a lot since they would never die due to respawn.

He wondered just how much the Spy had changed from the bright eyed boy who had gone into the First World War. He wondered if there was anything the Spy regretted about being in that war, or the next war, or even this war.

Andrew had one regret of it all. Being alone. He could kill a man. He could have drinks with friends. He could deal with not having a shave or a decent bath. But it hurt to spend his days through all of it alone.

He decided that he was not going to be alone anymore. He was going to change that. He might mess up again in the future, but that was just how he was. He could not really change himself, no matter how hard he tried. War had made him this way, with that fancy disorder the psychologist had labeled him with, the one who put it in the files the Spy must have read.

He decided to work faster, finishing his projects as quickly as they could bake. They each needed their time, but he needed to finish now. The longer it took, the more anxious he grew, watching the clock tick away with growing impatience.

 

When the last dish was finally done, he gathered all of them together. He had chosen only to make apple tarts and quiche this time, making the rest of his cooking main course foods. There was no way the Spy would actually want to sit there and eat a bunch of sweets. Though maybe he would like that, Andrew was not sure.

Andrew knew that he would not be alone anymore, if this went well. So he strode proudly out into the halls with the dishes in hand. He would go to the Spy and try to share a piece of himself, in hopes that the Spy might share a piece of him with Andrew.

That thought made him embarrassed. Thinking about the Spy in this way seemed odd, not because of the man, but the man’s class as a sneaky bastard. He had always thought of the Spy as a greasy little sneak, and it was hard to think that he could be any different.

But the man behind the mask was not defined by his class. He was somebody who had feelings and a heart to share with somebody. Andrew felt like he got a glimpse of that, maybe in the strangest way possible. Whatever the case, he still deserved to be with somebody who did not always think of him as BLU team’s Spy.

He knocked on the door loudly, but in his heart there was only uncertainty. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but it did not help much. He wanted to shrink to the size of an ant and disappear altogether.

“Go away!” was Spy’s response.

Andrew flinched, feeling a bit hurt. Spy must have already known that the Soldier was coming. The sneak did know a lot of things, he would not put it past the man to have gotten a hold of technology that let him see what the cameras saw in this base.

He was not sure it would do any good, but he knocked again. His knuckles were a bit gentler this time. He did not have any confidence left in him to put effort on the door. It brought him shame to think that he was being like this, any drill sergeant would have torn into him for being such a wuss.

The door flung open, “What?!” Spy flinched with surprise when he saw Andrew. He quickly regained his composure, “I was not expecting you. Please, come in Soldier.”

He stepped aside, curiously eyeing the tray Andrew was holding. He obeyed, stepping into the room with long marching steps. He turned to face the Spy as he closed the door.

“What is…this about, Soldier?” was the question he asked.

Andrew gathered his own composure, puffing out his chest, “An apology.”

“An apology?” a quirked eyebrow responded to him, “Really?”

“Yes,” Soldier offered out the tray, “We did not eat at the bistro.”

“I…who…did this?” he motioned to the tray being offered before him.

Andrew could not help but crack a smile, “I made this.”

“You made this?” Spy was in disbelief.

“I can cook for myself, and I practiced some cuisine,” he explained, glancing down at the tray, “Though I admit, I have no idea if it came out right.”

“Let me see,” the Spy grabbed a fork and with one smooth motion brought a bite to his lips. Andrew lost himself in the Spy’s face, as he tasted a bit of the quiche. “This is lovely,” he finally said.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy had no idea that the Soldier could cook for himself, let alone cook a whole meal that looked and tasted like it belonged in a restaurant. It was culinary art and it was delicious. He lied about things tasting just right; most of it was meant to be French types of dishes; but it still tasted good, even if it did not taste like the things he ate in France. When he measured how much time these must have taken, he estimated that the Soldier must have spent hours working on these things, starting from when they got back from town.

“You put so much…heart…into these, Soldier,” Spy said, motioning to the food with his fork. They were sitting across from each other, Spy in his recliner and Soldier in a small sofa that rarely got use.

“Thank you,” Soldier said, with a humble little smile and an embarrassed flush to his cheeks, “I just used basic ingredients is all.”

“You did remarkably with what you were equipped with,” Spy continued, placing his plate on his lap.

Soldier was silent for a minute, thinking about what he wanted to say. It had been a long day of surprises from the Soldier, so Spy was wondering if there would be another surprise. He was almost expecting it.

“Do you like America?” the Soldier asked.

He was taken a bit by surprise, but only because he had been expecting something surprising. This type of question fell right into his prior MO. Then again, he had to remember that this was still Soldier. No matter how far he fell from expectations, he was still the screaming wild American.

“I am proud to be living here,” Spy admitted, “I came here with Mann Co expecting it to be one way and it turned out to be very different. Still, I am proud.”

“You should only expect the very best of America!” Soldier stated, with a smile growing on his face.

Spy set aside his place, disinterested in it. He was interested in digging into the Soldier’s more intimate and shy side. He wanted to get into that, especially if it led down an entertaining path.

He leaned over his knees, resting his elbows there and his chin on the backs of his interlocked fingers, “Soldier, tell me something.”

“Ask away,” Soldier interrupted.

“What do you think of French cuisine?” he gestured to the tray of dishes, most of which were supposed to be French in origin.

Soldier fidgeted a little at the question. He did not directly meet the Spy’s eyes, rather he looked around, searching for his answer. He finally searched his hands before he spoke, “I think…maybe…I like it. It is something I could get used to.”

Spy blushed, feeling as though maybe the man had read his question better than he had expected. It had an underlying hint, which he had been sure that the American would not have caught. Even giving his intelligence room, he did not think that the Soldier could have picked up on the subtle hint.

“Can we talk about something else?” Soldier asked.

“What would you like to talk about?” Spy nodded in approval.

“What…what about this?” Soldier motioned to the two of them with one hand.

Spy copied the gesture, “What about this?”

“Th-this. U-us,” Soldier stammered unsteadily. He licked his lips before he proceeded. “Will this ever happen again?”

“Well,” Spy put a thoughtful look on his face as he considered the event of being on a date with the Soldier again.

Perhaps the next time would be better. He did not expect much change, but to think he had a man here willing to go through trouble to impress him was remarkable. They had already learned some things about each other, and especially the things that they had in common.

“Back there…at the bistro…I didn’t mean to…make things go awry,” Soldier winced.

Spy blinked at him but said nothing. He waited for the man to simply explain himself.

“I don’t recall what happened,” Soldier went on, “Or what it was that I said. But I didn’t mean to stall the date.”

Spy was puzzled for half a minute. He replayed the list of facts about the Soldier in his mind. He had PTSD, hallucinations and black outs. It was not a far reach to think that maybe during that moment of emotional reminiscing, the Soldier had either blacked out or lost some memory of what was going on around him.

Spy pursed his lips, “You were not very responsive when I asked about ordering. When I proposed we go to the theater, you insisted that you ‘would probably just make things weird there too,’ though I would strongly disagree with that sentiment.”

“I said that?” the Soldier blinked at him, “When did I say that?”

“Back at the bistro,” Spy explained, “But it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry about that,” the Soldier pressed, sticking to the matter.

“It’s fine, it’s alright,” Spy insisted, “Water under the bridge.”

Soldier nodded, but was humbly quiet. He searched the floor in front of the toes of his shoes. They were the same nice leather shoes he had worn with his suit, but he was not wearing the suit anymore. The slacks and the button-up were still on him, but the tie and jacket had been discarded when he was cooking.

Spy studied the man curiously. His clothes looked like they were brand new, as if they had not been used from when they were bought until now. They were not well cared for during the past few hours, the shirt and slacks both now showing signs of wrinkled wear. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his thick burly forearms. If the man looked like he could tear another man apart before, with those arms, Spy was certain that he could.

“Do you want to do this again?” Spy finally asked. He started mulling through ideas for different dates with the Soldier, and how those would go. “Perhaps a more casual time?”

The Soldier perked up at that and smiled. He offered Spy a nod and a solid, “Affirmative!”

 

Morning brought the usual chance to greet the Sniper, but Spy found himself not caring to do that. He did not care if he saw the Sniper today. He almost laughed when he thought about it, because for once his morning was not about to be made brighter by seeing the man who did not understand what he usually did to Spy.

Spy instead reserved himself to cleaning his pistol that morning. He let the morning go by, until he finally got hungry enough to go into the kitchen. Sniper was not there anymore, he was probably out cleaning his weapons or practicing with them.

“Spy,” the Engineer tipped his hardhat in greeting.

“Good morning, Engineer,” he responded.

“Intruder alert! A RED Spy is in the base!” the announcer roared over the speakers.

“What? A Spy?” Engineer leaped to his feet, “I’m on defenses!” The Engineer hurried off to fetch his machinery.

“Go check the intel,” Spy barked at the big fat man sitting nearby.

The Heavy responded by rising from his chair and loping off. Spy turned his attention to the first possible threat. He hurried through the base, thinking the way the other Spy might come into the base. He was about to head for the defenses where the Engineer would be setting up a sentry, when he heard the Sniper’s outcry. He knew the man’s voice better than any, and could not mistake it, not even for the RED Sniper’s voice.

He charged for the tower where the man was usually posted. He should have been outside by his camper, getting his tools ready for Monday, but his voice came from the tower. All he could hear was the voice in his mind asking why Sniper had gone up there, and why he could not have timed things differently.

When he arrived at the scene, the enemy Spy was long gone. He did not see the RED Spy anywhere, and after sweeping the area, he did not find either him or BLU Sniper. That troubled him, as he hurried around in search of the man.

He found him, face down on the ground. He was breathing heavily, barely able to get a word out. Spy could not leave him there though, he would have to find the Medic. In a moment of panic, he lifted Sniper off of the ground and hoisted him over his shoulder. He had every intention of finding that damn Medic and getting him to fix the Sniper’s wounds, no matter how long he had to carry the man’s body.

He searched the base for the man, urgently. The Medic would not be on defense, not with certainty. He would likely ignore the warnings. He might defend if he found himself confronted with the RED Spy, but he was more likely to avoid the man.

He found the Medic lying unconscious on the floor, his glasses missing. When he snapped by his ear, he received no response. With that, he moved on, in hopes of finding out whether his colleagues had defended the briefcase or not.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew rushed immediately to where briefcase was kept, ready to defend it. “Protect the briefcase!” the announcer ordered.

“We need to protect the briefcase!” Andrew responded, as if anybody could hear him.

He stumbled about as he tried to hurry through the halls, feeling completely unprepared. He came to a halt and tilted his helmet back when he found where the intel was kept. He found Scout there, hurriedly trying to open the door. He looked like an idiot trying to claw at the door, not even worrying about the locking mechanism to the left of it.

“Yo! A little help here?” Scout beckoned to him.

“Stand back son,” Andrew motioned the boy aside as he punched in the code. He needed to think about it carefully, lest he punched the wrong code into the door. That would set off the security system and make him look stupider.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” the Scout was yelling at him, hoping to hurry him up.

“Incoming!” the big Russian Heavy came charging into them, smashing open the door.

They all scrambled wildly, trying to stay on their feet. Scout was not as graceful, falling flat on his face, before pulling himself up with the table. His hand landed next to the briefcase and he smiled.

“Hey it’s still here!” Scout exclaimed.

“Alright then,” Heavy smiled, relieved to see their intelligence safe on the table.

“Ahem! Gentlemen?” the Spy’s suave accent caught their attention.

Andrew turned, his helmet blocking the man’s face from view. He could see the rest of the Spy though. He was dressed in his spiffy BLU suit as always. He even added the touch of adjusting his tie.

Andrew had to shake himself from his weird stupor to listen. He did not even know why he was thinking so hard or paying so much attention. They just had a weird outing that ended poorly and landed him in the smoking room with his homemade dishes. They were two men spending time together, for one day, nothing weird and nothing too intimate.

“I see that the briefcase is safe,” Spy said, addressing all three men in the room with him.

“Safe and sound!” Andrew responded, proudly. The other two made sounds of agreement with him.

“Mmhm…tell me, did anybody happen to kill a RED Spy on their way here?” Spy looked around the room, seeing only spooked faces and shrugs in response, “No? Then we still have a problem.” He dropped the load of a man he was carrying onto the table, face down.

Andrew stared at the body with concern and confusion. He had not been paying attention to what the Spy had been carrying, so he needed a moment to realize that it was the BLU Sniper, with a Spy’s butterfly knife in his back. Red was staining the back of his standard issue Builders League United shirt.

“And a knife,” Andrew let slip, his mind caught on the injury that ended their teammate’s life.

“Ooh hoo hoo, big problem,” Scout was laughing, grabbing the knife out of Sniper’s back to twirl around, “I killed plenty of Spies. They’re dime a dozen backstabbing scumbags. Like you! Ow!” The blade hit his finger and he dropped the knife before sucking on the injury. “No offense.”

BLU Spy grabbed the knife and quickly showed off his skills in readjusting it to close it. “If you managed to kill them then I assure you that they were not like me,” Spy placed the knife into Scout’s uninjured hand, “And nothing…nothing like the man loose inside this building.” He proceeded past the Scout, in a casual way, both hands behind his back.

“What are you? President of his fan club or something?” Scout chuckled.

“No,” Spy got a devious look in his eye, “That would be your mother!” He pulled a file out of what seemed like air, before throwing it onto the table.

Andrew looked on as the Scout gaped at what could only be described as an affair between a beautiful woman and the RED Spy, “What the? I…you…” Scout took deep but frustrated breaths.

Andrew felt only a little guilty as he looked on. There were plenty of pictures there, and many of them showed the woman’s pretty frame. She was not bad looking, and neither was the RED Spy.

When Scout could not come up with a witty comeback, the Spy simply said, “Indeed. And now he’s here to fuck us! So listen up boy! Or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today.” Spy pulled out his disguise kit and lit up a cigarette.

Heavy reached over to show him an interesting picture, piquing his interest. He could not help but let out a surprised “oh!” at the plump ass in view, though he could not tell if it was the Spy’s or the woman’s. Either way, it was one of the best of the pictures. Heavy let out a wry snicker as he smirked wickedly at the picture in his hand.

“Gimme that!” the Scout exclaimed, snatching the picture from Heavy’s hand. He started quickly gathering up the pictures, to hide them from the others, despite the fact that they were already seen.

Spy was talking, but Andrew forgot to listen. He tuned in with embarrassment, barely able to fixate on the Spy’s worried tone. His mind was adding the color blue to the mask on the Spy in the picture, and it made him a little heated. The RED Spy was really hot, under all of that clothing, and it made him wonder just what the BLU Spy was hiding under all of his.

“And worst of all,” Andrew finally managed to tune in, “He could be any one of us! He could be in this very room! He could be you. It could be me! It could even be-” Andrew did not need much to go on to see where this was going.

Of course the RED Spy would disguise as the BLU Spy. Of course the man would be that self-centered as to bring pornography of himself and Scout’s mother to this discussion. After all, the woman had been dead for near twenty years. Soldier remembered comforting Scout through the ordeal of receiving news about his mother. He would stop the sadist now before he could even sinuate that it had been the Soldier all along, so he lifted his shotgun and let it blow his head off.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Scout exclaimed.

“What? It was obvious!” Andrew announced triumphantly. He cocked the gun, letting out the empty cartridge, “He’s the RED Spy! Watch, he’ll turn red any second now.”

They neared the body, towering over the dead Spy with patience. They searched fervently for any sign of red in the man’s suit.

“Any second now,” Andrew tapped the Spy’s shoe with his gun, nervously. His mind was starting to fill with adrenaline and he was becoming a bit lucid. “See? Red!” he came down a bit from the high and realized what he was looking at, “Oh no wait, that’s blood.”

“So, we still got problem,” the Heavy rumbled, a deep voice for even such a big man.

“Big problem,” Andrew admitted. It was more to himself than anything, but he was not willing to tell them about it. “Alright,” Andrew sighed, “Who’s ready to go find this Spy?”

“Right behind you!” a French accent cut them off, before Soldier and Heavy were ambushed by a flurry of stabs in the back. The man was so fast that they did not see it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so silly writing that last part, but I had too much fun doing it. It came from Valve's "Meet the Spy" video, but with alterations for the sake of the story and the characters involved. I was rewatching it when I saw BLU Soldier shoot BLU Spy's head off. I could not help but laugh, thinking of Andrew. So yea, now Andrew has shot the Spy's head off.


	7. We'll Make It Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew feels ashamed about what happened. Spy is conflicted but does not hate Soldier for it.

Andrew simpered out of the respawn with a feeling of guilt. He felt so stupid. He looked so stupid in there. He was stupid!

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he toddled towards his locker, out of instinct. He pressed his forehead to the locker door, wishing away the sinking feeling deep in his gut. It left his mind full of thoughts and worries about what was to come.

“You have lost our intelligence!” the Announcer’s voice filled the room with her speaker.

Andrew groaned before he slammed a fist into the locker. He did not care about that stupid briefcase, not anymore. Not when he could plainly understand that he had shot Spy in the face.

He stood there for a while in silence, feeling ashamed. He could hear some other men rustling around the respawn. Heavy was the loudest, but like all of the others, he left the respawn. He was glad when it was finally quiet and he was alone in his miserable silence.

“Did it ever occur to your that perhaps I was onto something?” the Spy’s voice came to his head like it was from the heavens.

He looked around, feeling bewildered and a little startled. When the Spy appeared, decloaking out of thin air, he needed a moment to regain his wits. It was not like he could just get used to Spies after fifty-two years of working around them, forty-five of which he had spent working with this particular Spy. Cloaking was an unnatural ability granted by technology that Andrew felt should not exist yet.

Spy was standing in front of him now, likely fuming. His lips were moving a little bit, likely trying to decide how to punish or scorn the Soldier. All the while, Andrew could not help but shrink back into his shame and admit defeat in his own silent way.

“Soldier, are you going to speak?” Spy requested.

Andrew looked up, lifting a hand to push back the helmet. The Spy’s eyes had calmed now, taking on a quieter temperament. His hands were no longer flexing into fists, like they wanted to clock him in the face.

“The Scout was a Spy,” he muttered in shame.

“Yes indeed,” the Spy spoke carefully, “But had you waited for me to finish, we could have caught him together.”

Andrew had no response for that, only shame. He turned his eyes to the ground in solemn defeat. He had no justification for himself and his actions, knowing he was wrong in what he had done. No amount of conclusion jumping could lead him to say he was right when he was wrong.

“Where is your shouted justification?” Spy inquired, half-heartily.

“I don’t have one,” Andrew flinched under the Spy’s words. Maybe he was known to them as a shouter and somebody to give justification, that was not good.

“Why are you cowering?” Spy looked around cautiously. When he saw that nobody was around to hear or see them, he pushed Andrew’s helmet up to his brow, so he could see the man’s eyes. “You are not the BLU Soldier!”

Andrew flared up, his chest puffing up at the statement, “Yes I am!”

“There you are,” Spy said, with a glad little smile, “I was starting to fear the American pride had been spooked right out of you.”

“That will…always be there,” Andrew’s gaze turned back to his toes as he shuffled them.

“Get a hold of yourself,” the Spy cuffed him on the ear, “When those cameras are on you…” he paused to point up at the camera the Administrator was watching through, “You must be the Soldier! You are a strong and confident man! You’ve got more boldness in your pinky than most men have in their whole bodies! Now man up!”

Andrew watched him walk out of respawn. He was not entirely sure how to take the pep talk, but all the same it was an interesting take on him being the Soldier.

 

*********************************************************************

 

New Year’s Eve, 2000

Spy lounged in his usual corner. He watched the others with careful pretense. As per the usual, everybody was getting drunk, but this time they were watching what they were drinking. The Demoman would not get the slip on them this time, no hammered shitless type of drinks for them.

Part of Spy wanted a drink that would sink him onto his ass again. Like Smissmas Eve, it would be nice to be drunk enough to let go of inhibitions. It would be nice to drop all the Spy façade and just let loose for a night.

Instead, he let himself dwell on the Soldier, who sat quietly on the couch. This time, Demoman remembered to give the man a drink, passing him a cold beer from the Engineer’s ice chest. Those two seemed to take up conversation with the Soldier as if they had been discussing things with them all along, as if they had not been avoiding or ignoring him at any point of time.

Part of Spy wished he could pour himself onto Soldier, to return to talking. He had been thinking about the date, and he had been thinking about it since the morning after. He had nearly gone to the man’s room to talk to him, but he always chickened out. Not because he was afraid of what would happen, but because he thought it would not look very good if he sought the man out in his room.

That did not stop him from pondering the man. He was doubtlessly handsome, with slouched but strong posture. Spy thought back to when they had been talking. Nothing ever hinted that the Soldier was stupid, so no matter how much he pondered on it or tried to think through it, he could not figure out what the Soldier was thinking when he aimed the gun at Spy.

Despite the team betrayal, he could not shake the feelings he had. He wanted to make something work, despite the betrayal. He wanted to talk to the Soldier, despite having a shot blow his head off, directly from the hands of the Soldier. He wanted to hold those hands in his own, strangely comforting, despite having held the gun that had betrayed him.

“Hey Spy,” the Australian accent caught him off guard.

He almost flinched away, but kept his cool instead. He turned to the man, shifting his entire body to focus on the taller man. He was a bit surprised at how close Sniper came to him, moving well within arm’s length.

“You seem a bit out of it this evening,” Sniper said, with a calm patient voice, “You doing alright. You never told me about how…uh…the date went.”

“It went fine, Sniper,” he said, wishing he could side step Sniper. He wanted to listen to what Soldier was talking about with the Demoman, half suspicious and half curious.

“Come on, mate,” Sniper reached over to tap his shoulder, “Share a drink with me and let’s have a sit down. Ain’t talked since like…Christmas I think.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Spy replied, firmly. He kept his eyes on Sniper, but his attention was trying to absorb the Demo’s response.

“Ah come on!” Sniper sounded like he was losing his confidence, “We’re still friends…right? We’re not…we’re not having some kinda fallin’ out or anything. Are we?”

Spy sighed, forcing himself to bring his attention back to Sniper. He was not completely disappointed, not entirely. The man was handsome, from those sideburns to his sharp eyes. He could never miss those eyes, not from a mile.

“Spook?” Sniper pleaded softly.

“We’re friends Sniper,” Spy replied, trying to suppress his frustration, “But I’m a Spy. I’m not-”

“You’re a social creature, Spy,” Sniper argued, in an animalistic growl, “I know you better than anyone.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Spy replied, a bit snidely.

“Show me anybody who knows you better than I do,” Sniper started to chuckle, “Come on. Grab a beer…or something else. I’ll bet Demoman has something more your taste. You like Champaign, don’t you?”

Spy sighed, “I’m not drinking this evening.”

“Why not? It’s a party!” Sniper grabbed his arm, dragging him along towards the Demoman.

“Not every man drinks just because the occasion called for it,” Spy insisted, but he did not stop the Sniper from dragging him along. His body felt flush as the warmth of the arm holding his became more apparent to his attention.

“You’re looking dull, mate,” Sniper stated, dragging Spy right up to the Demoman and Soldier.

At first, Spy looked at the Demoman, who turned to his little alcohol bar. His eyes turned and his gaze became locked with none other than the Soldier’s. Andrew, he thought, correcting himself. He knew the man’s name, so he might as well use it, just not in front of the others.

“Chirrup lad!” Demoman chuckled, handing him a cocktail with a slice of fruit on the lip.

“This is a party after all!” Sniper laughed as he opened another beer can. He and the Demoman zoned out in their own conversation.

Finally, Soldier seemed to have snapped. He did not like being left in silence with the Spy, while the Demoman was off talking, so he turned and marched off. He left the room, but not without the Spy trailing behind him, refusing to let him go just yet.

The Soldier was halfway down the hall when he glanced over his shoulder. He flinched, doing a double take when he saw the Spy. That disappointed him, as he realized that the Soldier was not expecting him to follow. Maybe he did not even want him to follow.

Spy took a step back, letting his presence be softened a little. He was not sure how much alcohol Andrew had consumed as of yet, and would not push a drunken mind. He had seen what could happen when you pushed a drunk Soldier in the past. That was how the last Soldier perma-died forty-five years ago.

“Evening, Soldier,” Spy gestured with his drink in hand.

“Evening,” Andrew said gruffly. His hands were moving, clenching, unclenching, rubbing against his clothes, then clenching again. He seemed so uncertain of himself that it would be uncharacteristic, if Spy had not seen his shy side before.

“I was hoping we could talk for a bit,” Spy offered, with a gentle tone. He did not want to push anything, he still liked the man but he did not want to rush any boundaries at this point.

The shy smile that crept up onto Andrew’s face was a little heartwarming, just to know that he liked the idea. He returned the smile, glad to see that he could press on in a conversation without too much worry.

“I was hoping to get some air,” Andrew threw a thumb over his shoulder, motioning in the direction he had been going.

“It is quite stuffy in there, isn’t it?” Spy glanced over his shoulder, back at the door to the recreational drinking room, “What do you say we walk and talk together?”

Andrew’s smile grew just a smidge and he took Spy’s arm. Spy smiled as the shorter man tugged him along, leading him out of the building. When they were out in the cold night air, it felt so freeing. They could talk more openly, and that was what Andrew did. He let his buzzed tongue start talking and gave the Spy his full attention.

They talked about nothing in particular, circling around topics about cars, stars, the team’s losses and how they thought the team could improve, and even about what Paris is like. Spy was amazed at how fascinated the Soldier could be about a foreign country. He was intrigued about every little thing that Spy could share with him about his home country. It made him miss home a little bit, even though there was no actual home waiting for him there anymore.

“Maybe someday we could go to Paris,” Soldier suggested.

“Pardon?” Spy raised a curious eyebrow.

“You and me,” Andrew smiled broadly, “We should go to France together someday, you could show me all the things you love about it.”

Spy smiled, feeling inwardly delighted at the suggestion. It felt so good for the man to put so much importance on Spy’s home. It felt like he let go of his usual pride in America, just to let somebody else feel proud of their own country.

 

*********************************************************************

 

New Year’s Day 2001

Andrew woke with a throbbing headache. Being hung over was a terrible feeling. It hurt, but he took it slowly enough to be able to handle the aftereffects of drunkenness.

When he became a bit more aware, he thought he remembered talking to Spy. He remembered the man hanging on his arm, almost as if hanging on every word he spoke. Surely that was not the case, Spy was too good of a talker to listen to whatever stupid babble Soldier had been on about. Perhaps he would find Spy and apologize, just in case he was rude or insulting.

He was buttoning up his over shirt when he entered the dining room. Most everybody was assembled there, which seemed strange. Normally the Sniper would be outside by now. Some of the others were usually not even awake this early.

“Soldier, have a seat!” Engineer said, in a semi-commanding voice.

He did as he was told before buttoning up to his neck. He surveyed the people around him, not really able to listen to what was being said. His attention was a little too heavily weighed on the hangover.

His eyes did eventually land on the Spy. The man was talking, his fierce gaze focused between the Medic and the Engineer, but Andrew could not be sure what he was saying. His attention became caught up with him though.

Those eyes were so fierce and intense. Even behind a mask, those eyes bespoke the man’s fierce power, and the energetic emotion he had. And every gesture he made with his hands, hands trained to hold a cigarette, trained to convey only what he wanted when he wanted, could only be described as perfect. Andrew could watch him talk fervently all day.

The ringing in his ears faded, and the voices became easier to hear. He almost shook himself, jolted by the transition between the consistent ringing that he was previously unaware of, to their shouting voices. It was not cause for fright, but was a dramatic change.

“Right then,” the Engineer said, “If we corner them out by their shed, we can take them before they are even aware of what is coming.”

“How can you be so certain that they won’t get the jump on us?” the Scout countered.

“I hate to say that the boy is right, they have been on top of every plan we have ever made,” the Medic said, with waning confidence.

“Not every plan,” Andrew shrugged.

He remembered a few years ago they used to be good at planning. They could plan their way through the RED base with ease, and the REDs would not know what was coming. It was when the REDs got better at thwarting plans that things went to shit so fast.

Nobody really paid mind to what Andrew had said. Spy gave him a sidelong look, as if wanting to give him the due attention. But he quickly got turned around by the Demoman.

“What we need is a faux attack! Some sort of distraction!” the Demo explained, excitedly, “We throw them off with that and this will go off without a hitch.”

“Alternative would be to shoot down the buggers before they know what’s gonna hit them,” Sniper offered.

“What? Are you going to suddenly man up and snipe each of them in a five-minute span?” Spy replied snidely.

Andrew was a bit surprised. Spy and Sniper always seemed friendly to each other. But, perhaps there was some sort of competition between them that Soldier had missed before. That would be awkward, given their already growing sense of loss against the RED team.

“Alright then,” Engineer looked around at all of the faces, “How do we distract them?”

“I’ll distract them,” Scout offered, “My part ain’t that big. I’m usually pretty good at getting their attentions anyways. I don’t reckon it would be too hard this time.”

Andrew felt compelled to add his own part to this, “I will help!”

“Good on you Soldier,” Engineer gave him what could only be described as a proud smile.

Sniper snickered, “Two loud annoying Americans? Yea, that’ll do the trick.”

“Right!” Demo’s smile broadened, “Let’s do this!”

“Alright!” Scout jumped to his feet, looking ready to run into battle, “Let’s go!”

“Mission doesn’t start for another hour and a half, boys,” Engineer pointed to the watch on his wrist.

Scout patted his growling stomach, “Guess I could go for some breakfast first.”

Everybody chuckled at that, before the Engineer hobbled off to the kitchen. Of course the Southerner would be the one to make them breakfast. Andrew always appreciated his good-heartedness. He was sure that the man’s hearty breakfast would suit them for the day’s work.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Scout was excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet as they listened to the countdown in respawn. He was not sure what was making him feel so driven today. Maybe it was the fear of being the target of today – granted he was usually RED’s main target, but today he had to make himself the target – or maybe it was the thought of working with the Soldier. That was maybe what was making him nervous.

The guy did not seem affected by the responsibility given to him. As usual, he seemed to be prepared for whatever was to come. He would not give the enemy a moment to think he was nervous or racked with uncertainty. He had this strange calm about him that Scout was certain only came from being a veteran of a real war.

Sure this was a war. They fought and they died; they shot at their enemies and they took their share of wounds. But in the end, they were just nine guys shooting the same nine guys. They respawned every time and they got a paycheck for it. He was vaguely aware from some random rambling Soldier had done while he was drunk, that he had been a Marine fighting in World War two. The man had seen real war, hunkered down in cold muddy trenches with his comrades, fighting from a distance and where he could see the whites of the eyes of the Nazis. Saving people from certain demise, as Hitler’s reign had certainly brought about the end of so many lives.

That was probably the best part. That was what made Soldier the real hero, in Scout’s eyes. And that reflected in Soldier’s work here. Even knowing that his men would go to respawn, Soldier would still stop to aid a fellow man, carrying him back to the respawn room to reload their ammo or something. Or maybe just get them out of the line of fire.

Scout was not so strong that he could carry any of the other heavily muscled men. He did not even think for a moment that he could even try to drag the Heavy Weapons Guy. That guy was a beast, heavily armed with muscle and fat too. He easily weighed double Scout’s body mass.

It was too bad the Medic was not like that though. The man was the healer, and could easily help them most times. But he usually preferred to help men who were already on their feet and ready to fight. Those who were beyond repair or just stuck in the line of fire would simply get shot with a needle, which would send them off to respawn to be spat out whole. The Medic used the logic that a mostly dead man was useless to him, he needed them to be whole enough that the medigun could put them back together.

The announcement came and the gates opened. Scout eagerly charged forward as usual, eyeing any signs of the RED Demoman’s explosives or a Sniper shot. He needed to stay ahead of them so he could take the distraction to them. He only hoped that the Soldier kept up well enough.

His answer came from the loud explosive rocketing, as the man flung himself through the air. He roared as usually, a screamed battle cry that would probably get a guy killed in the middle of an actual war. Still, it would be unlike a Soldier of the Mann Co war to be silent as he sent himself through the air with his rocket launcher.

He had to turn his attention away from the Soldier though, because his RED counterpart was coming at him. The other had a big nasty grin on his face, teeth showing as he readied to try and shoot down the BLU. “Not today,” he chuckled to himself as he darted out of the way, “Come get me, RED!”


	8. A New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's New Year's Day 2001, and the team is riled up for a fight. Andrew is determined not to let his mental state get in the way. Spy has some hesitations. Scout is determined to win this one.

Andrew barely kept up with the younger man, who easily darted around buildings. Andrew went for anybody who aimed for the youth, starting with the RED Scout. That meant the others started aiming for the Scout, thinking that there must be something important to do with him.

“Nope,” Andrew muttered to himself, as he rocket jumped, sending himself at the RED Sniper’s nest. The guy was distracted by his scope, as he lined up a shot at the youth.

Andrew aimed for the window and moved on. The following explosion and cry of pain was all he needed to hear before he proceeded. He smirked to himself, noting that this meant two REDs were already down because of him.

He could keep up the kill streak. What a nice trophy that would be. Of course, he would have to make such a trophy for himself. That would be nice, all the same. He wanted a trophy that talked about him being a hero for a kill streak.

And then it ended with the Demoman’s explosions getting a little too close. They sent him flying through the air again, like his rocket launcher would have. He caught himself, using a few rocket shots to retreat to someplace a little safer, but not without punishment. The pain in his aiming arm – his right arm – tore into him. In fact, he found that the blast had torn through his flesh down into the muscle.

He turned his head and called out, “Medic!” It was not until after that he realized that the man was halfway across the battlefield and probably pocketing the Heavy.

He was alone and would have to deal with this himself. His teammates still needed him though, so he would have to press on. He would not let a little pain get to him, as he had been through worse situations in the past. He decided to press on, sending himself through the air with more rockets.

That did not last long though. He landed with a loud grunt and limped to the side of a building to rest. He was not doing so well, as the pain of his arm was killing him. It forced him to drop the rocket launcher to the side, resting the arm as it burned with agony.

What he would not give for a hard drink and some pills. Damned the science that said that pills should not be taken with alcohol. That was the best way to take them!

He paused to shift his clothing, feeling a bit uncomfortable. The blast had turn at his jacket and such, leaving much of the arm exposed in such a way that the already exposed musculature was burning more with the cold. His arm was going numb though, especially with the cold on it. What was really starting to bother him was his side, which had taken very little burning but was now a bit exposed to the cold. That also tipped him off that his back brace was compromised, which meant he would soon be limping from pain in his lower lumbar area.

He cursed to himself as he limped off to find something to patch himself up. He almost forgot the rocket launcher, had to go back for that. But he had to carry it on his left arm, so he was shit for aim with it at the moment.

He was almost about to give up hope, seeing a glimpse of a RED Pyro. His body tensed, feeling a loss of blood from his face and neck. The terror quickly fled him as he readied himself for the flames. He would not die a fearful man, he would stand proud in the face of his adversary.

Andrew barely recovered when the Pyro turned into a blue suited Spy. He blinked at what he was seeing, not entirely believing his eyes. Maybe he needed glasses. He could probably have the doctor check on his vision.

“Soldier, what happened to you?” the Spy asked, surprisingly open and genuinely concerned. He was out in the open, not cowering away in the shadows like he normally would.

Andrew was still blinking at the figure in front of him when he realized that he had been spoken to, “I took a blast to the arm. I’m not likely to make it back to resupply like this.” He shifted uneasily, testing his thoughts and ideas before deciding what to do. He was not the brightest man on the team, and he was sure that Spy was more aware than the rest. “Kill me please?” he asked.

Spy tensed, with sudden surprise at the request. His body relaxed and his fists became limp at his sides again. His eyes never left Andrew though, staring at his wounded arm, and then at his face.

“What happened to you?” Spy asked, with disbelief on his mouth

Andrew’s mouth twitched. He had asked the question twice now and he had already given a decent answer. Surely that was enough for him to go off of.

“Soldier?” the Spy pressed, reaching out to grab his shoulders. He was especially careful of the right shoulder, lest he hurt the arm a bit more.

Andrew sighed as he reached for his shotgun to hand it to the Spy. The man had to take a hint somehow. A Soldier has to know when he was unable to perform his civic duties.

“Non,” Spy put up his gloved hands, defensively.

“I am not fit to carry on,” Andrew pressed the shotgun to Spy’s chest, but the man was reluctant to take it. He frowned, feeling a bit frustrated that Spy was not willing to assist with a suicide. “Spy, I need this!” he demanded, his frown tightening.

“I cannot,” Spy retorted, his hands still raised in refusal.

“Just think of it as revenge for last time,” Andrew insisted, hoping the Spy caught on to what he meant.

Spy shook his head, “I cannot do that to my teammate.”

Andrew’s frown deepened, “This is not a tea party, Spy! This is war! We are on the battlefield and you want to pussy out on relieving a man of his duties? Grow some backbone, soldier! We are not in a position of discussion, this is a place for action!” He did not think that his words would actually get a reaction, let alone an action, from the sophisticated and well planned Spy.

To his surprise, the man suddenly took the gun. He handled it gingerly, his hands swiftly turning the barrel to Andrew’s head. It was such a swift motion that Andrew did not get a chance to stiffen his back before the blast came to his face. It was very painful and required a second shot to send him quickly through respawn.

He was glad to be in one piece. He was glad to be fully dressed. He had lost ten minutes of time, ten minutes in which he hoped his team was catching up to RED without him. They were good men and good mercenaries, they could handle a battle without his babysitting.

Much to his chagrin, the Scout had also been taken out of the fight. When he got to the front, he found the Medic and Heavy trying to take down RED’s defenses. The RED Engineer had already set up sentries, which were completely unsapped at the moment. The RED Heavy and Medic were out of sight, so they must have been going through respawn. The RED Scout was already in the BLU base going for their intelligence.

Andrew would not tolerate failure. Their plan could not fail because of his death. Sure, if he had had the proper healing at his disposal he probably could have been more helpful and they would be farther along. But at the present, they were completely at a loss, and he had not been there for ten minutes to aid them in the push against RED’s forces.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy could not stop his hands from shaking, even when they did things that they were used to. A cigarette to his mouth. His disguise kit pulled out to switch out to the RED Demo disguise.

When he took the shotgun he had stopped thinking. His hands had shaken so much that he felt like something had overtaken his body. It did not seem right.

It had never bothered him before to shoot the Soldier. They went through respawn all of the time. They hated the feeling, loathed it for every moment taken from their breath and every inch of their sanity lost. It was something that seemed like doom, despite their return to the living world.

But this seemed different. Maybe it was because Spy saw the man differently. It was not just a different way of seeing him though, as Spy had known many men to become different in his eyes. But there was something different in the way Spy felt about the Soldier’s condition when he found him. He wanted nothing more than to show him comfort and support.

He had been about to offer to take him to the Medic, where he could seek help. The Soldier had been blissfully unaware of his words, rigidly speaking about his own suicide like talking of taking off a bandage. And the burns up his arm had exposed the very muscle down to the core of bone at his elbow, which he seemed to be completely unaware of.

After having his head shot off, Spy should have felt a bit of victory in having a chance to shoot back. Especially when it did not get him into trouble with the Administrator. Something he was sure Andrew had to deal with for shooting the Spy.

He went through three cigarettes before he reached the sentries. He heard the RED Engineer shout about a dispenser. But, who needed a dispenser down when there were dangerous sentries in his colleagues’ way?

He was fending off the angered Engineer, when he heard the familiar scream of the American. A weird wave of relief hit him. It was as if he had forgotten to find peace of mind with the respawn, that he had to have confirmation that his teammate was coming back to life.

He missed his strike and the Engineer smacked him upside the head with his wrench. His head spinning with pain, he reeled back and tried to escape. His feet lost balance over a piece of metal from the destroyed sentries. The shorter man, now looming over him, came towards him, an angry scowl on his face.

The screaming came closer until the Soldier landed on top of the other American. He straightened his back, “You can go back to your toys, RED!” He turned to offer Spy a hand to his feet.

Spy felt a bit of heat on the side of his head. It tickled under his hair and his hand went to his head without thought. His fingers touched something wet and warm, probably blood starting to soak through his balaclava.

“Let’s take that intelligence!” the Soldier growled, a spark of what seemed like light in his eyes.

Spy smiled back, about to state that he was injured. He did not have a chance as the Soldier took him by the arm. He was pulled forward and into the RED base. He stumbled after him, trying to remain steady, if only for his new headache. The distant beeping of a sentry caught his ear.

“Sentry ahead,” Soldier slowed to a halt.

“I’ll deal with this,” Spy pulled out his disguise kit and cloaked. Once he was unseeable, he charged off toward the sentry, tossing his sapper at it.

When he heard the noise of the sentry going down, Spy shot it, until the whole thing blew up. Hearing the machinery go down, Soldier followed after him, his shotgun ready in his hands.

He stopped before Spy and nodded, “I have your back!”

“Good,” Spy nodded back at him.

He was not very certain though, feeling his head spin a little. He was not used to working with somebody closely either. He usually just snuck in and took some stabs on his own, barring the few teammates that just happened to be in the area.

He took the lead, heading down a dimly lit hallway that would lead them to the intel. He paused at the corner, cloaking again to peer around the corner. The RED Pyro was there now, looking around warily, with a swiveling head like a sentry. They would be hard pressed to get around the fire starter.

“Are we in the clear?” Soldier reached out to touch him, which caused his cloak to be revealed.

Spy quickly pulled back from the corner to glare at the Soldier correctively. He responded with an apologetic smile. He cringed away from Spy, hugging his gun to his chest.

He let down the cloak and whispered, “Pyro is guarding the intel room.”

“I’ve got this,” Soldier stepped around him.

Spy tried to protest, but the man was already in range of the fire starter’s view before he could pull him away. All he could do was pull his arm back as the Soldier’s chest was hit by a flare. The man acted unaffected as he set off several shots, smirking when the Pyro fell.

Spy watched as Soldier’s uniform set on fire. The man’s reaction was very delayed, dropping to try and roll out what was already an out of control flame. The man was screaming while trying to refrain from screaming in pain.

“Soldier…” Spy stepped towards him, his hands patting his pockets for some solution.

“Get the intel!” Soldier shouted.

Spy flinched but did not hesitate. He charged the intel room, snatching up the red briefcase. He almost could not believe he had his hand on it, when he rushed out into the hallway. He turned to the burning man.

“Mercy,” Soldier grunted, as he struggled against the floor.

In one smooth motion, he pulled out his pistol and ended the Soldier with a shot to the head, before heading out of the building. He held tightly to the case, running as hard as he could. With the briefcase in one hand and his pistol in the other, he could not utilize his disguise kit, not that it would work – both Spies were aware that the briefcases were bugged by the Engineers to prevent the kits from working.

Distracted by the BLU Medic, Heavy, Demo and Pyro, the RED team was not even paying attention to the blue suited perpetrator getting away with the red case. He did not spare the battle a second glance, fixating his gaze on the base ahead. His heart was pounding so hard and his feet hit the ground running, or at least that was what it felt like they were doing. There was another feeling creeping up though, as a glimpse of the Soldier flickered behind his mind’s eyelid.

He shook the memory, focusing on the journey ahead of him. He was not the speedy youth, he could not run as fast. Still, it would not stop him from trying.

Speaking of whom, he spotted both Scouts running across the rooftops. RED Scout had the blue briefcase on his back and was booking it back to his base. BLU Scout was chasing him, his shotgun being reloaded after missing his counterpart several times.

“Scout!” he called out.

The boy glanced his way but kept chasing his counterpart. He was determined to get his counterpart and that blue briefcase. He was not thinking about how their team would fare better with him holding the suitcase.

“Scout! Some assistance please!” he coughed out.

His lungs were not what they used to be. His body was not what it used to be. He desired nothing more than a cigarette to appease his itch for a smoke. He was not fast, and at this rate he was going to slow to a stop by his own health.

“Scout!” he called again.

“Up high, Frog!” Scout called out.

Spy looked up and flung the briefcase at the young American. The aim was off, but with a bit of fumbling, the youth managed to get a hold of the handle. He gave him a sideways salute as he darted across the rooftops towards the BLU base.

“Later, Spook!” Scout called out as he charged off.

Spy turned on his heel, raising his pistol at the other youth. He missed the body shot, but managed to nick his Achilles heel – which he only noted from the painful cry and the stumble.

He grabbed his disguise kit and cloaked, as he followed after the enemy Scout. He was not sure he could catch up to the young man, but he could try. With adrenaline pounding through his body, he would be damned if he let it go to waste, even if he could not breathe.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Soldier charged out of respawn feeling refreshed. He smirked, feeling quite accomplished, despite the lack of any accomplishments. Maybe he could have done more, if he had not gotten hit by the flare gun’s shot, which always left some residual accelerant on whatever it touched.

Still, he had protected the Spy from the Pyro and given him a clear shot at the intel. He felt like that accomplished something. That was more accomplishment than he had managed in years. That was a great feeling, regardless of how small it was.

He heard the Administrator announce a win, their win. They had not won the match yet, but she announced that they had retrieved a RED briefcase. That was more than they had managed in much too long.

“Alright ladies!” he shouted, as he ran up to his coworkers, “Let’s get the second one!”

“Any suggestions?” he heard the Demoman.

Andrew looked around the battlefield, searching for his next target. In truth, he had no ideas for a plan, only pride and adrenaline from the recent win. All he knew was that they had managed to capture one briefcase, now it was time to capture two more.

He launched himself into the air with his rocket launcher. He wanted to get to a higher vantage point and shoot that RED Sniper before he could take out their Medic. The man’s healing weapon was growing close to the uber, and that would be just the moment the Sniper would take him out.

He aimed for the Sniper’s window, but only managed to hit the walls. That was okay, because the splash damage hit the man. The screaming was all Andrew needed to hear to know that the man was not going to be shooting again any time soon.

He followed the Demoman into the base, hoping to help create more distraction. Much to his and his teammates’ chagrin, this was not part of the plan. He did not hear the Medic shouting angrily at him until it was too late. The enemy Soldier blew up the Medic and Heavy, then Demo got shot by the enemy Pyro.

Andrew was not going to let this stop him though, so he charged off to find the second intelligence briefcase. A few rocket shots took out the enemy Demo and Soldier, but the RED Pyro was hot on his heels.

He barely lost the guy when BLU Pyro appeared just in time to get into a fight. Andrew continued until he reached the intelligence. There it was, completely unguarded and ready for the taking.

He smirked to himself as he grabbed the briefcase. He was too late to turn around when a shot hit his kidney. He turned to see the RED Spy dropping a BLU Demo disguise.

Before the man could say something snide or clever, Andrew raised the launcher and shot rockets at him. His eyes widened with surprise before the scream that followed. Andrew could only chuckle to himself as he limped off with the briefcase in hand. Dammit, he would not be seen slacking off, not even for a bullet wound!

He was losing a lot of blood though and it was slowing him down. It would not be long before another RED found him. He could not be quiet and sneaky either, he was neither Spy nor Sniper. They were hunters by trade and killers by title.

By the time he realized that he had finally stumbled out of the base, he had lost too much blood to concentrate. His head was spinning and his hand was shaking. He was surprised that he still had a grasp on the handle of the briefcase. In any case, he would get it as far from the RED base as possible. His eyes had set onto the course and he aimed for a spot where he would make it to by the time he passed out.

To his surprise, and his relief, he noted the Scout running into his slowly narrowing vision. He heard the boy calling out to him, but could not hear the rest. There was probably something about the kid being cool or something. Probably shouting about running and how fast he was. Then he looked at the briefcase and held it out, hoping the boy might take the hint.

The moment he felt the hand brush against his, taking a grip on the briefcase, he let his body give up. He crumpled under his own weight, his body wanting to take a break on the ground. He could not help it, since the world was spinning now. Even while he laid on the ground the world was spinning and swirling all around him.

“Hey come on man! Come on!” that was Scout’s voice. But Scout was supposed to be taking the briefcase to the base.

“The briefcase, son,” he muttered, barely able to raise his voice. It felt like something had taken the strength out of his lungs too.

“Come on! Come on Soldier! Get up!” the boy was pulling him off of the ground, trying to lend him a shoulder to lean on.

“I’ve lost too much blood, I won’t make it back to base,” he barely managed to speak loud enough for his own ears to hear.

He could hear the nearby rumble of explosions, and the pop pop pop of rifles and the ratta tatta of sub machine guns. But there were so many of them now. How could he figure there were so many? Barely able to open his eyes, his hazy vision did not find what he was searching for. He heard more pop popping and a sudden explosion, but to his eyes nothing moved, aside from the flinch that he did in fear that there was danger nearby.

Everything was getting louder, especially as they got towards the base. He could hear more and more shooting that drained out the boy’s eager attempts to encourage him. The boy was enthusiastic, he would give him that, but even Soldier knew it was not smart to be lollygagging behind, when the briefcase needed to be taken to the base.

He was not surprised when he heard the Scout cry out in pain. He was not sure he was ready for it to sound like Private Salmon. Salmon was crying and screaming, trying to hold himself together, but unable to make the blood stop pouring out of his body. Andrew could not do anything. Andrew could only watch him writhe and scream on the ground, while there were no medical aids around to help.

Andrew felt the ground beneath him. He remembered Private Salmon squirming in cold mud, with a wet poncho to protect his attire and bag. But this ground was strangely dry and warm. It smelled almost sweet in a sense, or maybe that was salty, like the dry desert sands of Arizona.

Andrew opened his eyes in respawn and looked around. He paused to scratch his head, feeling befuddled. His mind felt clear now, like everything was fine. Nothing happened to him, he could just go on with his day.

But, remembering what had happened before the respawn, before he died, it felt so confusing. He was so out of it that he was not even aware of what was happening to the Scout. He could not even say what happened to the briefcase.

That was, until the Administrator announced that they had captured the second RED briefcase. Andrew smiled and cheered internally. He was sure the Scout finally got his wits about him and headed off with the briefcase to help them win the round.

But as he made his way out of respawn, he could not help but wonder why it took him so long. Respawn required ten minutes. Andrew could have been dumb, but he understood time. Time was also something the kid was good at beating, so he should have gotten back to the BLU base rather quickly.

He glanced over his shoulder, where he saw his Texan teammate preparing a new nest. He was getting ready to defend, as RED was probably desperate to get their hands on the BLU intel. It was time to buckle down and get that last bit of intelligence, before all hell broke loose.

He launched himself up to where he could get a better vantage point of what was happening. After two jumps, he pulled out his shovel, coming down on the RED Demo. He turned on the RED Pyro, but had to dodge some accelerant laden shots. He did not want to burn yet again.

A shot rang out and the Pyro dropped like a lump. Andrew considered the masked person for a moment, before his attention was caught by the BLU Sniper. He waved and the Sniper waved back. He thought he heard something like “go get ‘em!” but he could not be sure.

He turned and headed towards the RED base. He wanted to get that intel again so badly. This time he had to make sure of it. They were so close to winning. They were so close to breaking this losing streak. Even if they lost tomorrow, they would have this for today.

“No you don’t, mate!” he heard another Aussie’s voice calling out, before a rifle shot missed him.

He picked up his feet and hurried for cover. He would not be picked off so quickly by the damned Sniper just yet. He caught the BLU Sniper’s attention and motioned towards the RED Sniper. But, just as the teammate was lining up a shot at his counterpart, with the RED distracted by Andrew’s antics, as well as others’ antics, the RED Spy appeared and stabbed him in the back.

“Dammit!” Andrew launched himself into the air, carelessly. A shot or two missed him by a mile. He aimed the rocket launcher so that it sent him towards the Sniper, which was probably stupid because he would be an easier target. “Not in my America!” he shouted, gritting his teeth as he aimed three rockets as the Aussie’s nest.

The resulting explosion was satisfying and Andrew could move on to help his team. He found Demo trying to fight off the RED Soldier and the RED Demo. Both REDs thought they had the man on the ropes, until Andrew came around a corner with rockets blasting.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Scout felt a little foolish for what happened. He could have taken the intel to the base. Instead, he became gun fodder, and fell with the Soldier he was trying to save. Still, he felt a little pride in his attempt to save Soldier. The man’s own mantra stated that no soldier should be left behind.

They had been lucky that the Medic had come running by, hoping to meet up with the Heavy at respawn, and grabbed the intel on his way. He would have gotten shot down, had the RED Sniper not been so cocky. The guy sincerely thought his teammates would have gotten the Medic, who was much slower than a Scout, and he was very verbal about his anger.

It was hours before anything happened after that. It was constant stalemates and pushing back and forth. Once in a while, somebody would get close to the intel, but they would get caught and killed by the enemy. For now, BLU’s Engineer was the guardian at the base, since the RED Scout had managed to get the intel once before.

Scout could live with having brought in the first intel. The second intel could go to Demo, because he fell with the old man he was trying to help. He even got called ‘son’ in an almost fatherly fond way. Not that he would ever tell him, but that felt kind of good.

He figured that Soldier was the kind of guy who saw Scout for his age difference from the rest of them. Engineer called people ‘son’ all the time, so long as they were younger than him. But it was nice to hear it from the Soldier, to have maybe made him proud for a moment.

He could not replicate what war was like for Soldier, but maybe he could live up to that example. He could not imagine what any of that could have even been like for him. But, if Scout could just try to do what he thought Soldier would have done in the war, then he would be proud of himself.

“Scout! Get the case, lad!” he heard the Demo shouting.

Scout had just barreled into the RED base, his shotgun blazing. There was the RED briefcase, lying expectantly on the floor next to the BLU Pyro’s body. The RED Soldier tried to take it but was quickly shot down by the BLU Sniper. Scout could have laughed, but he did not have time to think about how weird it was that Sniper was out of his nest and in the heat of the fight.

He rushed the case and grabbed it just in time to avoid an explosive trap laid by the RED Demolitions Expert. That guy was terrible. Of course, he was not fast enough to catch the Scout. Though he could feel burns on his back, a heat so powerful that it caused his eyes to water.

He ignored the pain and charged across the battlefield. He could hear the cries of his enemies surrounding him. They were trying to catch up to him, or at least to cut him off. His RED counterpart was already hot on his heels too.

This was the third briefcase. This would be it, their big win. All they had to do was get this one into the base and they would win the round. Nobody could stop him now, as he was already too far for the RED Scout to catch him. He could have turned his head to taunt, but he was sure that would have slowed him down a bit. He was determined to get away from the bastard.

He was almost away from him when a shot hit him in the shoulder. It caused him to stumble and his grip started to loosen. In his panic, he tried to grab the briefcase, but it was enough to let his counterpart catch up to him. He felt the body slam against him, as the other mercenary grabbed him to throw him across the ground.

They immediately started rolling, tussling and trying to gain the upper hand. Both of them were ruffians from the streets of Boston. Just as much chance they could have met on those streets to either be pals or become quick enemies outside of work. But, they were here now, fighting over that briefcase. And after everything that had happened already, he was not going to let up now.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy saw the opening like it was an invitation. He could already see some REDs closing in, but there was no time to lose. If he aimed at the Scouts, he would just as likely injure his teammate as harm the enemy.

Besides, he did not need to injure the enemy or kill him for that matter. He just needed to get the intelligence to the BLU base. And given his light step, Spy quickly passed them before either of them looked up to see if the briefcase was still where it was before.

By the time he heard the RED calling after him, he was already at the door to the base. He tucked his pistol away, freeing up one hand as he made his way into the base. It was the most satisfying walk he had ever done, as he listened to the Administrator announce their victory.

He did not stop until he had the case placed in their secure vault to be retrieved later by somebody working for the Administrator. He checked his weapons and headed back out of the base, as the humiliation round was just starting. He had two years’ worth of humiliation rounds to pay the REDs back for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling so proud of these boys. UwU


	9. New Year’s Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They won a match - FINALLY!  
> Everybody is so glad to have a win after all this time. But, they are kind of overdoing it. So Soldier tries to help Spy and they end up talking again. They did not fall underneath of Demo's radar though.

The sweet feeling of victory was like a crisp beer to the lips, and the whole team was celebrating the way they had tried to make themselves feel better. They drank themselves silly. With Demo behind the makeshift bar as usual, the base became filled with raucous cheering as the mercenaries drank themselves into a stupor, a manic happy stupor.

Andrew could only smile at seeing how happy they were. Demo was the giddiest he had been in decades. Scout was bouncing around, bragging about how well he did on the battlefield, including his apparent selfless attempt to save the BLU Soldier. Engineer was drunker than he had been in so long. Medic and Heavy were being cheerier than ever, with the German doctor acting his friendliest under the influence of alcohol and the pleasure of victory. There was Sniper, who was stumbling about with a beer in hand, laughing with the Demo and making jokes about the Scout.

Then Andrew’s eyes fell upon Spy. The Frenchman was usually slinking in a shadowy corner to watch everybody else. But, the man had been coaxed out of his corner to join in the celebrating.

Andrew watched curiously and a bit fondly. He felt good after the victory, and he was sure Spy felt the same. He would put his savings on a bet that it was the best feeling either of them had had since the end of the second World War.

He was curious though. There was something more in the man’s curious behavior. Andrew had noticed at some point that Sniper and Spy were friends, but he had never noticed Spy’s feelings for the man. While Sniper stumbled about and joked like any other man on the team, Spy hung on him and his words like a love-struck, drunken fool. He was close to putting his hands and draping arms all over the Sniper.

After a while, he grew wary that Spy might just do that. He was one more drink away from just coming out of the closet, figuratively. That was, unless they had all figured it out from that drunken kiss.

When Andrew drew close, Demoman was laughing loudly, “I swear mate! If’n you weren’t a lady killer type, I’d peg you for a homosexual!” He tipped back a bottle of whiskey.

“Huh? What?” Sniper was the one who was confused, “Who are you talking to? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was hesitant, not wanting to step in at the wrong moment. He did not want to get into a fight with anybody. But he also wanted to help Spy out of the pickle he was about to get himself into.

“I’m talking about gay,” Demo laughed, barely aware of what he was insinuating or insisting.

Sniper caught Soldier out of the corner of his eye and turned to him, “You talking to me? What you want, Solly?”

Andrew was confounded by the confrontation. Nobody had called him Solly before, though he was sure he had heard the name somewhere before. He was not rightly sure how to respond, other than the automated response from his mouth.

“I came over for a drink, you boot licking sorry excuse of an Aussie!” his voice came out in a loud growl. He did not know why he said it, only that he said it, under the influence of the alcohol’s buzz.

“What’d you say to me, wanker?” the Aussie sized him up, drawing himself close and above Andrew.

“Aye! Take it easy you two!” Demo called out to them.

“You’re taking an easy path down to an ass kicking,” the Sniper growled low.

“I am not intimidated by a woman!” Andrew announced. He was sure his face was red now, after calling the Sniper a female. He would not normally be saying these things, but he was starting to wrap his head around the fact that he was detracting attention from the Spy.

“What?” Sniper’s lips contorted into an angry snarl. His voice lowered to something a bit more intimidating. “You and me, let’s have a round. No guns, just man to man with fists.”

“I do not fight women,” Andrew raised his voice a bit higher. He was at a height disadvantage so something had to rise.

“Gentlemen, please!” Spy cut in, pulling the two apart. Miraculously he had cleaned up well, becoming suddenly straightened up and well-collected.

“This prick is trying my patience!” Sniper spat in Andrew’s face.

“Sniper…” Spy gestured to the taller man, patting his shoulder, “Please, have a bit of common sense. The man is obviously drunk!”

“Yea? Well so am I!” Sniper raised his voice, “And I’ll go for a tussle if I wanna!”

“I will not be bullied by some two faced twit!” Andrew growled.

“Bugger off, or I’ll turn your stout body into a bag of mush!” Sniper’s knuckles crackled as he growled.

“Soldier,” Spy turned to him, hoping to get some sense into one of the two, “Please, just leave it be.”

Soldier looked to Spy and then back. He bit his tongue this time, refusing to let the automated response take over. He was wanting to say something along the lines of “I don’t throw down with sissies” but shied away from it.

“Got nothing else to say to me, piker?” Sniper leaned in, trying to be intimidating to the shorter man.

Andrew bit his tongue again, refusing to fall into the same routine. He would not be caught back into his own cycle of fighting. He had started this, but he would end it as well. And when Spy finally convinced the Sniper to return to drinking with the Demoman, he turned to Andrew, as if to reward him for good behavior.

“Let’s speak in private,” Spy motioned to the door leading to the next room.

He smiled slightly and nodded, following the other man’s lead. He was sure he would fumble, if his recent spat with the Sniper had not already earned him embarrassment. Though, when his mind went back to Sniper, he finally considered the way Spy was acting around him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Sniper slammed his mug onto Demoman’s freshly cleaned bar surface. He had expected some stains, but not the dent that the Australian’s surprisingly strong grip had caused. Not that Demo would think any less of an Australian – but it was hard to deny that he was surprisingly lacking the large amounts of chest hair and body mass that most every other Australian seemed to have. He shook all thoughts of that away as he prepared to scorn the Sniper for the damage.

“Who does he think he is?” Sniper growled.

“Who? Spy?” Demo was a bit caught off guard. He began to realize just how drunk Sniper was, having felt so giddy after the winning fight today.

“Gimme another round,” Sniper softened his voice as he turned his full attention to Demo.

“I think you’ve had enough, mate,” Demo replied, taking the mug to clean it out.

“I said another round!” Sniper demanded.

“Lad, you’ve had too much already,” Demo insisted, keeping a calm head about this. He was normally the one to overdo the drinking, not Sniper. “You’ll go and get sick. Besides, you’ll want to sleep that off. You’ll have a massive headache in the morning, and you’ll probably start a fight with somebody.”

“I’ll start what I wanna!” Sniper growled with irritation.

Demo nodded, “Yup, I figure as much. But I won’t be reliable for that.”

“Come off it, mate! Do me a solid and gimme another!” Sniper reached for another empty mug, but Demo quickly snatched it away.

He glared at Sniper with his one good eye, “Nope! Can’t do it, mate. Settle yourself for the evening, cause you drank too fast for your own good!”

“It’s not like I started the whole thing!” Sniper exclaimed.

“Started what now?” Demo was placing mugs onto makeshift shelves, where they would be out of the way.

“That tiff ‘tween me and the Soldier!” Sniper exclaimed.

“You’re talkin’ about Soldier now?” Demo quirked an eyebrow at the Sniper. He usually only talked about two people: his lover, Sheila – or was it Melissa? – and his good friend the Spy.

Frankly, Demo did not care for the spook. The man slinked around like a ghost along the walls. He could scare the fairies out of their circles with the way he moved about in the shadows, popping out of nowhere with that cloaking device – no different from the enemy Spy.

And the Spy was usually the focus because he was being pushy about something or because he was being a nuisance to Sniper. It was always when Sniper was frustrated that he wanted to talk to the Demo about it.

That never sat well with him. As the team drunk, he was supposed to be the one non-willfully confiding in them, not the other way around. Engineer was the kind of guy to stand there quietly and listen to a guy’s problems. But nobody understood that, so they got mad when Demo had a thing or two to add to the conversation, especially advise or perspectives that the speaker did not seem to have.

But the Soldier was never a topic of choice for Sniper. The Soldier might as well have been a robot in the corner of the room. Only time Demo heard anybody talk about Soldier was when he was being blamed for something that happened during the day’s round. It would usually be Medic complaining that the man did not stick around for an uber or the Scout mentioning how he saved his life.

“What about the Soldier?” Demo rolled his eye.

“You’re cutting me off cause of that wanker!” Sniper protested, slamming his hand on the counter.

“Nah,” Demo shook his head, “I’m cutting you off because you had too much to drink, and it’s starting to show.”

“Might be a bit late to say it’s _starting_ to show,” the Medic cut in. He offered up his empty mug in hopes of getting it filled.

Demo complied, “Lad’s gone off the rocks.”

“Have not! I’m just saying that he started that!” Sniper argued, his voice rising in pitch.

“Nah,” Demo handed off the mug of ale, “I remember you turning to him to bark like a bit dog.”

“I did no such thing!” Sniper protested harder.

“Nah you did,” Demo argued, “And nary a word from the Soldier ‘til you did that. Of course, man doesn’t say much ‘til you get some drink in him.”

“I beg to differ!” Medic argued before throwing back a deep gulp, “I would propose the man talks too much! Second only to Scout.”

“I heard my name, what’s happening?” Scout called to them.

“Nothin’ that concerns you, lad!” Demo called to the youth.

“I seen ‘im coming from the corner of my eye,” Sniper pointed to his eye, “I know an aggressive Soldier when I see one.”

“Soldier’s always aggressive,” Medic hiccupped as he looked down at a suddenly empty mug.

Demo gave a low whistle at seeing how fast the man had taken down the ale, “Soldier’s a man who stands like he’s always defending something. And half the time it’s his own pride. You watch your back, but I don’t think Soldier’s the one to put a knife in it.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sniper asked. He actually had some innocence in his tone, as if he could not guess what he was talking about.

Demo shot the Medic a look and the man gave him a half drunk, half knowing nod. He swayed a little bit, but managed to sit down before he could hurt himself. Demo turned his attention back to Sniper, to make him feel like he was being heard out.

“Listen mate, I don’t tell you how to go about life…who to lie with…and what to do,” Demo licked his lips as he thought carefully about his words. He did not want to end a friendship with anybody, or anybody else’s friendships. “And I don’t tell you who to spend your time with, but you sp-”

Medic cut in, with a low belch, “You spend a lot of time with the one man who _would_ put a knife in your back!”

“What?” Sniper blinked at each of them, staring at them as if they were hysterical.

“The Spy!” the Medic offered. He tried to take another drink before he realized that his mug was still empty.

“Lemme take that,” Demo removed the mug from Medic’s hand, “I’m cutting you off too. No Oktoberfest or whatever the hell that is about.”

In the back of his mind, he noted that the Spy had had a grand total of one alcoholic beverage since entering the recreation room. He just kept picking it up and sipping it slowly, becoming overly intoxicated over that single beverage. That struck him as strange, and the fact that he would do something like that made Spy untrustworthy.

“Ack, I don’t need to be cut off,” the Medic protested.

“Nah, I think you do,” Demo argued, cleaning the mug before putting it with the others, “In the meantime, why don’t you both try to sober up. No reason to go on being depressed or nothing.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy had led Soldier all the way to his smoking room. Staying in one of the other rooms might not have been a very good idea anyways, not very private. Here they were alone, with no cameras in the room and nobody around to pry. If anybody came to the door they could easily silence their conversation. Given the nature of their colleagues though, he was certain to a fault that the others were all distracted with drinking.

“What did you want to talk about?” he noted the Soldier’s small smile, both sheepish and coy. He seemed to know that he had misbehaved but wanted to put up an innocent front.

“What was that all about?” Spy asked.

“What was what about?” Soldier got defensive, almost instantly.

Spy took a deep breath and sighed, thinking through his words, “Back there in the recreation room, you snapped at the Sniper. Why’d you do that? Was a drink from the Demo really worth trying for a fight?”

Soldier got awful sheepish at that, turning his gaze to his hands rubbing in his lap, “N-no.”

“You called him a _boot licking sorry excuse of an Aussie_. That is both daringly specific…and bordering on cruel,” Spy spoke with soft words, not wanting his tone to be too harsh.

“He came at me first!” Soldier countered.

“He was drunk…too drunk,” Spy explained softly.

“I didn’t want a fight,” Soldier argued.

“You called him a woman,” Spy argued, a bit more gruffly this time.

Soldier snorted what seemed like a laugh. That took Spy by surprise. It was a little cute. The chuff was a little suppression of laughter that seemed cuter than any giggle.

“I’d do it again!” Soldier announced, a bit too proudly for Spy’s liking.

“Soldier,” he pressed, hoping the man might calm his thinking.

“Andy,” Soldier responded.

“Andy,” Spy tested the name on his tongue, using the same tone as before, “Please think about your words. You started speaking without thought.” Soldier- Andy got a bit sheepish again. “I know you know better. I know you are smarter than they think of you. You aren’t mindless.”

Andy refused to meet his eyes. His lids were blinking in rapid succession. Spy wondered if something was going through his mind at the time that he had confronted the Sniper.

“Are you really that drunk?” Spy asked, “Because I’m not much for talking to a drunk Soldier.”

“N-no,” Andy stammered, “I-I just…I just thought…”

“What? Thought what?” Spy pressed, impatiently.

Andy’s face started to glow a soft red, “It was…it was the Demo talking. I heard him joking.”

“Okay?” Spy pressed, hoping more pieces might get placed together.

Andy was licking his lips as he pondered his actions, “He was putting things together. And…you were…d…” His tongue seemed to get tied up as he finally looked at Spy.

He did not really look Spy in the eye, he just eyed him up and down. He seemed to be realizing something for the first time. It seemed to catch him by surprise too.

“Wait…you aren’t drunk,” Andy’s surprise was what caused Spy to raise an eyebrow. He was not that surprised at the Soldier not noticing that, but the expression was necessary for the image that he was surprised.

“I am a trained professional,” Spy offered, “Drinking too much would ruin my wits. Faking drunk helps me to get away from it when there is pressure.”

“I see,” Andy was silent for a while after that.

Spy cleared his throat, “So you thought I was very drunk by then?”

Andy nodded slowly, “You looked like you’d lost your wits. You were just about falling over Sniper…” That was when something flashed in the man’s eyes. “You like him, don’t you?”

It was Spy’s turn to become sheepish. His cheeks grew hot and his body came to a boil. He could not believe that the Soldier had picked up on that. He did not want the Soldier to know about that.

“Are you two…or were you…um…” the Soldier was fumbling over his words now, like an idiot. It was too cute for Spy not to smile.

“No, he is not interested in men,” Spy procured the answer without much thought, “I just…he’s a dear friend.”

“But you want to be more,” Andy read him like a book.

Spy could not say much to that. If he tried to deny, the Soldier would know of his intent to hide it. Saying that this was true would probably be redundant.

“I understand the feeling,” the Soldier basically answered for him.

“What? With who?” Spy’s answer came off his tongue automatically, not of his own volition. He was immediately hit with a sick feeling in his gut.

“No one in particular,” was the response he received, “I grew up same era as you. I got used to being taboo for wanting to date Jonathan after breaking up with Susanne. I also got used to getting beat up for asking said Jonathan.”

Spy was silent at that. He was aware of a prevalence of violence in America, but he had never actually met someone who had dealt with that. He never dealt with it himself, either being very lucky to avoid those who would have done it, or being in the right place with the right people.

“I have no idea what kind of people we work with,” Andy shrugged, his eyes on his hands in his lap, “But I’m not sure they’re the kind to be understanding of our unusual predicament.”

Spy raised an eyebrow at him, “Is that what you would use? _Unusual_?”

Soldier raised his eyes, sharp blues, to meet Spy’s gaze. He blinked a few times, looking unsure of what he had said, or what he was going to say. Spy began to worry that he might be blacking out or having more trouble in his mind.

“It is not a usual situation,” Andy finally said, much to Spy’s relief.

“No, I suppose it is not considered usual,” Spy shifted in a small shrug, “But neither is it unusual.”

“Two men of our age alone on a base full of killer mercenaries?” Andy offered.

“I uh…see that you have a point,” Spy nodded slowly.

They were quiet for a minute. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them were sure what to say at this point.

“So then…uh…you and the Sniper?” Andy finally broke the silence.

“Just friends,” Spy assured him.

“But still friends,” he detected something in the look on the man’s face.

He smirked a little, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” the quip came out gruffly, “But hanging onto your crush?”

“It’s not like anything can happen between me and him,” Spy brushed it off with a shrug. Soldier did not seem too happy about that. “Why would I end a friendship I’ve established these past decades?”

“Seems strange to cling to a crush, when you begin to date someone else,” the Soldier offered. He was a bit gruff in his tone, definitely jealous and ill-tempered about the Sniper.

“We’ve barely been on one date!” Spy scoffed, “And you expect me break a-”

Andy cut right in, not letting him finish, “I won’t expect or demand anything, except…one date.”

“One date?” Spy was immediately intrigued but decided to play hard to get, “That’s all?”

“That’s all,” Soldier nodded slowly.

“I’m not sure,” Spy’s eyes rolled back as he relaxed back in his seat, making his body more relaxed in appearance, “I have a very busy schedule and working around the others finding out is a very difficult experience.”

He looked over to the Soldier to find that he was no longer smiling. That was a very sad frown. It was adorable in its own way, in that it made Spy’s heart jump at the chance to turn his lips upward.

“Then again, it’s not that big of a deal,” he quickly brushed off the struggle of finding ways around the others, “And it’s not as if I cannot work around the work schedule. And I do like you.”

That got the smile. It was not just a small smirk, it was kind of a big dopey smile, the kind that Soldier could not suppress. There was even a bit of tooth as the man tried to bite it back. The delight in his eyes brought a pleased smile to Spy.

“This Saturday at noon?” Spy offered.

“We’ll go to the movies this time…for real,” Andy offered.

Spy smiled and nodded, “Alright then, movies it is.”

Andy hopped up to his feet, sooner for leaving than Spy had planned. He had hoped that he man would stick around. Perhaps he was a bit too flustered to stick around much longer.

“Saturday then?” Andy’s goofy smile returned as he reassured himself of the date.

Spy was careful about standing up, not wanting to look too eager to get to his feet, “Saturday. And dress cute.”

“Cute?” Andy stumbled over the word halfway to the door. He spun around to face Spy with the most inexplicably adorable red face.

Spy lost all self-control as he began to laugh at how red his face was. He could not restrain the snorting that came with the inability to breathe. He kind of wanted to stop laughing, to save Soldier’s dignity, and so that he was not upset when he left. But at the same time, the man’s face just got redder until he looked like a large tomato.

“Say Spy,” Andy interrupted his laughter.

He slowly caught his breath and straightened up when he heard him. He was shifting his tie, “Yes?”

“What can I call you?” he requested.

“Call me? Call me anything?” he put on a playful smirk. He could think of a few pet names for the Soldier.

“I cannot walk around town calling you ‘Spy’ can I?” Andy asked.

He was taken aback by the thoughtfulness of Andy’s words. He was getting surprised all of the time. “Well…uh…I’m not sure,” he felt his cheeks heat, as he prepared to fend off questions about his real name.

“How about Jacques?” Soldier offered.

“What?” Spy was taken aback by the offer, having hoped the man was going to make some silly name for him. He would have tolerated something cutesy for the sake of a date.

“You used that name for our reservations,” Andy explained, “Why don’t I just call you that?”

“Oh, alright,” Spy was very much relieved though, to not be answering any questions about his real name.

“I understand you Spies keep your secrets,” Andy explained, as if reading the thoughts on Spy’s mind, “I wouldn’t want you to risk safety for me. And perhaps someday you’ll tell me.” He donned a smile. “Just not today.”

With that, Andy saluted him and spun on his heels. He headed out the door without actually saying goodbye. Well, he was still under the influence of alcohol. And it was not like having a bit more intelligence than previously thought made him any less _Soldier_.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Demoman leaned over the counter towards the Medic. The man was staring sadly into an empty cup. Demo did not want to be overheard talking about what he was going to be saying. He just hoped that he guessed right at the doctor being okay with such talk. He would not want to endanger his own teammates for his own stupidity.

“Say doc, what’d’ya think of uh…homos?” he asked, hoping that his word choice was well thought out. He never was too good with words that did not start a fight.

The Medic raised his head to blink at the Demo a few times. He seemed a bit stumped from the influence of booze. Though perhaps it was also that the Demolitions Expert had brought up some odd topic.

“What was that? Hobos?” Medic asked, a bit too loud for Demo’s comfort.

“Nah, never mind,” he retreated, hoping nobody came to ask what he was going to ask about.

“Demo…” Medic’s voice lowered to something dangerous. He suddenly had this look about him like he had sobered up in an instant. “Are you asking about homosexuality?” There was genuine look of concern on his face.

Demo glanced about the recreation room, checking to be sure that the Sniper was truly distracted with the Pyro and the Engineer. Scout was especially one to be careful of, hanging around on his own on the couch. He would get bored and come over to bother them eventually.

“Aye,” Demo whispered, “Don’t go yellin’ about it now.”

“There are no…cures…for that,” the Medic shifted his glasses and cleared his throat nervously.

“Nah, there wouldn’t be,” Demo furrowed his brow.

“If you’re asking if I’m interested, then no,” Medic’s face was starting to become flush.

“What? Nah! I wouldn’t pork one of ya lads if you were the last walking flesh around!” he had to lower his voice again, “I ain’t a homo!”

“Then why are we talking about this?” Medic asked, growing angry now, amidst the red flush of embarrassment.

“Because I’m concerned that one of our mates…maybe two…is not…into ladies,” Demo explained in as soft of a tone as he could manage, “And I’m worried that some of our…less understanding coworkers, might single them out for it. I wouldn’t want somethin’ to happen to them. But at the same time, I don’t want to be the one to single ‘em out either! Not without no evidence.”

“Ah,” the Medic shifted his glasses again. He seemed to change their position based on his mood. “If you are concerned about the Heavy, it is not him. He is only attracted to women, but he grew up with many sisters and thus has a very high tolerance for girly things…as well as a penchant for acting in ways that counter manliness…just to show that he is comfortable with it.”

Demo could not say much to that. He knew Medic and Heavy were good friends. He never would have suspected Heavy of being homosexual. Although, thinking back, it almost made sense with the way he acted around the Medic.

“And while I’ve been approached for my behavior, that’s only because I’m drunk,” Medic said pointedly, “I relax more when I’ve had some booze. Speaking of which…could I?” The Medic raised his cup, hoping for some more swill.

“Haven’t you had enough lad? Drink some coffee! Sober up a bit!” Demo reached for the pot he had brewed for the boys. They had mostly gone overboard with drinking tonight.

Medic sighed and set his cup down, “If you’re still concerned, I don’t think you should be. I think if you approach them, they’ll only be uncomfortable and deny it. It would be best if they denied it. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable around men like the Soldier or Engineer if I were like that.”

“Eh? Engineer?” Demo shot a glance at the physicist, who was boring Sniper and Pyro with his technical babble, “Thought he was gentle as a kitten. Outside the battle, I mean.”

“He’s a good man, but very preachy,” Medic leaned his head against one hand, “Wouldn’t stop about my experiments and such. Such a high moral code for a mercenary. Then again, I suppose he’s not here for the killing, or for much choice.”

“Ah…Bible thumper?” Demo asked. Medic merely nodded in response. Demo sighed at this, “I’ll leave it alone then. Those men are the reason I wouldn’t want to out nobody. If’n this were different, and we could all be open and civilized, then I would think it would be a cherished bonding experience. But I don’t even know if Sniper would be okay with it. Australians are known for their pride in manliness.”

“There’s nothing less manly than a man taking it in the ass,” Medic chuckled, motioning to the coffee pot for a mug.

Demo frowned to himself as he served Medic a hot brew. He was still concerned about the Spy. While at first he had played it off as a laugh, things got kind of tense when the Soldier came in. He did not actually think Sniper would turn on Spy for being homosexual. On the contrary, he figured the man would be uncertain but accepting of his friend. The way he was quick to defend Spy spoke miles of the integrity of their friendship, and if Soldier were to hurt Spy for desiring a creature of a different caliber, well then…

He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. It was none of his business either way. He did not care about Spy himself, the man never did him any favors. Still, he was a teammate and Sniper seemed to think pretty highly of him. Perhaps there were things Sniper knew about the Frenchman that the rest of them did not.


	10. BLU Spy vs RED Medic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A jump backwards in time, to a run in that Spy had with the RED Medic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be a look backwards, but it is relevant to note that Spy does know German well.

April 5, 1988  
The RED infirmary was dimly lit, with the Medic out of the way. Out on the battlefield with his comrades, the Medic left the infirmary quite clean and empty. It was locked up of course, but that did not stop a professional Spy.

After letting himself in, the BLU Spy made his way to the desk with papers, so he could peruse anything that might give him new information. There was always a chance that RED got some intel that BLU did not, and the doctor kept more notes in German than anything.

Of course, the man did not know that Spy had done enough work in German to be fluent in the language. He could throw a few lines around, but lately he had all but lost his speaking fluency. It was poor efforts on his part to not have kept practicing the language. At least his reading and writing skills were still there, as he made a quick effort of reading through the papers.

He was perusing the latest notes on the doctor’s tests on RED’s teammates, when he heard footsteps. Startled, his hand lost its grip on the papers. With an unintentional gasp, he hurried to grab the papers and throw on a cloak. He was cloaked just in time for the infirmary door to open, but not soon enough that the attentive Medic did not hear the cloak.

He saw the suspicious raise of the eyebrow, as intense hazel green eyes scanned the room for a Spy. His hand went to the saw at his hip, his lips twitching until they reached a pursed expression. The thoughtful expression never left as he inched his way into the room, searching for the perpetrator.

“Doctor!” a bigger figure came stomping in behind the Medic. The Heavy paused behind him, holding what looked like a beef sandwich to give to him.

“Spy in here,” the Medic lowered his voice to a whispering growl.

“Oh,” the Heavy glanced around, then reached for the shotgun he had holstered behind his back.

“Don’t let your guard down,” the Medic was slow and patient as he inched forward.

“Got it doctor,” the Heavy agreed, in a low growl.

Spy moved carefully, not wanting to give himself away by a poor step. He forgot about the timer though and his cloak let up. He did not have time, as he darted towards the door to slip past them. The Heavy threw out his arm, catching him by the front of his jacket.

He quickly brought his arm down in an instinctive reaction to break the hold on him. But, it turned out that the Heavy stalled him long enough for the Medic to leap at him, cutting through him with a saw. He could hear the man cackling behind him as he fell to his knees.

“Give little man mercy?” the Heavy offered, “Send to respawn.”

“Hmm…” he heard the Medic hum as he fell to the floor, “Not yet. I have some questions and such. Please get him onto the table, while I prepare for an operation.”

“Yes, doctor,” the Heavy grabbed Spy by the back of his slacks, dragging him across the cold floor. He lost consciousness at that point, unable to handle both the bleeding and the pain.

 

Spy opened his eyes to see only darkness. He was not sure where he was though. He distinctively felt nothing but cold. It was like he was in a box of ice, just sitting there in the freezing cold. Perhaps he was found and pronounced dead, there would have been a corpse-sized box that the Medic called the morgue, for those _accidents_ that occurred from time to time.

He heard muffled voices coming from somewhere outside. When he first opened his mouth he was not sure he could speak. He could not properly feel his lungs, or anything below the neck for that matter. That brought him a great amount of stress and worry, as he realized that the rumors might just be true about the Medics knowing how to keep a severed head alive.

“It should be…” light hit the Spy’s face and he felt movement. Suddenly pain shot through his entire body, as the thing he was laying on slid out of the box. He had been in the corpse box, but not on the BLU base. “Ah! Very good! You’re awake now!” the doctor pulled on a thick red glove, “I have some questions for you.”

Spy let a groan slip from his lips as he struggled with the wave of pain. His body felt mostly numb along the skin, but feeling was returning to what felt like the cores of his body. It gave him the stress, strain, stiffness and stinging that came with the nerves deep in his legs and arms.

What was worse was his chest. When he looked down he could see his chest moving, slowly breathing. But he was not sure that he could feel himself breathing, he just felt the pain under that big scar cut through the hair on his chest.

“Now…let’s test my theory first,” the doctor cleared his throat, as he filled a syringe with a partially translucent liquid, “What is the name of the RED Soldier?”

Spy was not sure what that question was about. The RED Medic should know the Soldier’s name better than the enemy Spy, not that he did not know the answer. He had read files on all of his enemies, as well as his coworkers.

“Maybe you’re a bit shocked from the cold,” the Medic shifted his glasses up his face, “You _were_ in there for three hours now.”

“Three hours? You left me in there for three house?!” the Spy felt his voice rise with disbelief. Surely his body should be shutting down by now, if there was not at least some form of damage to his limbs. Perhaps that was what was causing him pain.

The Medic chuckled, “Nein. Don’t worry. You’re nothing more than an animated corpse. A zombie if you will. We’ll kill you once we’re done. Heavy? Could you pass me that medical tape?”

“Da, of course,” the Russian man was somewhere off to Spy’s right, but disappeared before he turned his head.

The Medic reached down to turn his head back, reverting his attention to the Medic, “What is the name of the RED Soldier?”

BLU Spy was silent as he stared back at his captor. He felt his fingers twitch, but they were not being willed by his conscious mind. He was not sure if he was trying to pick up his arm to assault the Medic, or to simply feel his fingers move.

“RED Soldier’s name is Vincent Armani, but that’s irrelevant,” Spy finally stated, “As I’ve already read all of the files for the RED team.”

“Then you know my name?” the Medic said, his eyebrows raised in an expression that challenged him.

“Max Fischer,” Spy stated, spitting the information almost dutifully.

“And the Heavy’s?” the Medic pressed.

“Boris Prostakov,” he stated.

“And the Demoman’s?” Medic continued, as if he was urging towards something.

“Isaac MacCallan,” Spy growled, “What is this about?!”

The RED Medic’s lips curled into a small smile. It was surprisingly small for somebody who could smile so big. He often did smile big, in such a way that it was notably eerie. The doctor liked being eerie, so this smile was meant to be a little less eerie and perhaps a bit coy.

“What about the BLU Demoman’s name?” the Medic requested.

Spy’s lips became solid as they became a wall. He would not give him that information, even he could not give away what did not belong to him. He knew the power of a name, and he would protect his colleagues’ names under duress and the threat of further torture before impending death.

“You will get nowhere by refusing me,” the Medic noted, “What is the BLU Demoman’s name?”

Spy shook his head a little, hoping to express a bit more restraint. He would not be persuaded to talk. He would not give up that information. He did not even know why the Medic wanted to know so badly, it was just a matter of names on papers. These were papers that most people could probably go and find, but only BLU Spy had seen them so far as he knew. But what purpose would it serve for him to know the man’s name?

The Medic chuckled, as if he could hear the Spy’s busy mind, “You know the name of every individual mercenary here. Why not give them up?”

“No,” Spy responded.

“Fine,” the Medic closed the box and it was dark again.

 

When Spy was woken by the shuffling, he barely had time to brace himself for the light. The box opened and the Medic appeared above him. He grabbed Spy by the head with two hands, which made him alarmed to think that the man might be taking off his head.

“Hmm…your head is cold to the touch, you haven’t shown any weaknesses to the cold just yet,” the Medic pondered, “I wonder if I turn down the temperature further?”

“Medic, is good time to ask question, da?” the Heavy’s voice came from across the room, where Spy could not see him.

“Yes, you are right,” the Medic reached into his pocket to pull out a needle that he injected right there into Spy’s cheek.

A sudden wave of heat hit his face. At first he thought he was blushing, but then he realized that it was from the injection. It spread across his face and halfway down his neck.

“There, now you can speak clearly, yea?” the Medic’s eerie smile filled Spy’s vision.

For a minute he tested the muscles of his face. He had not realized that they were so weak, as if paralyzed by the cold. Slowly but surely they came back to life, willing expression and speech.

“I will not,” Spy growled.

“You will not what?” Medic asked, with a fairly coy tone.

“I will not give up my colleagues,” Spy raised his voice as far as he could. He reached a peak, where his body was just too weak to do it.

“Very well, I don’t care,” the Medic said dismissively, “What is the backing for this facility?”

“What?” Spy was taken aback by the question. He had to think back to what he knew about the facility to try and answer the question.

“This facility is namely funded by a single member of the Mann family. Which one is it?” the Medic demanded.

Spy was confounded, his mind spinning. It had to be from being in the cold for so long, and not from not knowing. He was certain he knew. He had read about it in the Medic’s own notes.

It hit him this time. The Medic was looking to see how much he knew already. How much he had found out would determine whether he was a threat to their facility. Not that Spy cared either way, the information he had seen proved to be useless. Perhaps giving some of it to the BLU Medic would have helped him improve their own facilities though.

“Who is it?” the Medic pressed, getting closer to his face.

“I don’t know,” Spy said, with a dumb look on his face.

“Liar! I know you know!” Medic growled, placing both hands on either edge of the box.

“I told you! I don’t know! Where would I know that from?!” he raised his voice again, this time the peak went a bit higher. His voice was getting a bit stronger now that his face was warm.

“Who is the handler?” Medic demanded.

“The what?” Spy repeated the dumbfounded look.

In the back of his mind, he was going over the scans of the paperwork – thank his maker he has a photographic memory. He had read about the financial stability. How Eldrich Mann was the backer of the facility – a bit surprising since he also funded the BLU facility as well.

He thought through more papers. It was not on that same papers, not about the finances. It was on the papers that discussed ‘manipulation’ and ‘situations’ in which various possible situations are listed in which certain actions must be taken. A Miss Trisha was listed there on the papers, but the handler was listed as Max Fischer.

“Do not play dumb with me,” the Medic growled.

Spy remained calm under the pressure, well trained and experienced in interrogation. He did not need the torture experience to be able to overcome this, as his entire body was numb at the moment. He could barely even feel his head, despite the heat in his face.

“Dumb? Why would I play dumb? I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” he pressed himself to sound as angry as possible at the accusations.

“I know you read them!” the Medic’s voice raised above his.

“Read what?” Spy exclaimed, trying to be as loud as possible.

“Doctor?” the Heavy was trying to interrupt timidly.

“Not now!” the Medic turned his head to shout at his teammate before turning back to the Spy, “You know what I’m asking for! And I’m not going to be very nice with what’s going to happen next! Don’t assume that the cold will keep you permanently numb. I can still wake your entire nervous system!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Spy exclaimed. He started shaking a bit, to show more of the anger reaction.

“Please stop doctor,” the Heavy sounded strangely timid, but still pressed, “Don’t shout so much. Little Scout needs sleep.”

“Scout will be fine,” the Medic turned his head again as he growled. He paused, staring at what Spy assumed to be the Heavy. He was quiet for a while, completely stock still.

Spy took the few moments to assess any other relevant information he knew. He was not sure what exactly was relevant. He remembered some of the informative results of tests the RED Medic ran on his subjects, results that the BLU Medic could apply to his own work in the infirmary.

When the Medic turned back to him, he lowered his voice to a growl and switched to German. What an intimidating language coming from such an intimidating man.

“I know you read the files I wrote about the recent tests,” he lowered his face towards the Spy’s face, “I also know that you read the notes I wrote about Miss Trisha and handling the RED team.”

Spy blinked at him, keeping up the dumbfounded act. The Medic could not know for sure that he knew German. He would use the man’s ignorance against him.

“What?” he blinked up at him with the confusion he had seen in Americans’ faces when he spoke French.

“You heard me,” the Medic growled in English.

“I heard you, I’m just trying to figure out what you said,” Spy replied.

He watched as the Medic’s expression softened and changed. He looked confused for a moment, and then perhaps unsure. He was processing and deciding on what the Spy meant.

“What?” was his final response.

Spy refrained from a smirk. The man was playing right into his palms. He was pleased to see that the Medic had not thought of it, since he could manipulate the man with this.

“I don’t speak German, you ignorant imbecile!” Spy spat, throwing forceful anger at the man.

“You don’t…speak German,” the Medic’s revelation caused him to move away from the Spy. He was still bent over the box, with both hands on the edges of the box, but he seemed to be thinking now.

“No! I don’t know German!” Spy shouted.

“How convenient,” the Medic glanced over his shoulder, before turning back to the Spy, “Not speaking it doesn’t equate to reading capabilities.”

“I don’t know any German, you idiot!” he growled.

“We’ll find out what you know,” the Medic slammed the box shut, and his footsteps faded away.

 

Spy was boredly staring into darkness when a loud voice came into the infirmary. He muttered to himself with irritation, as the familiar American Soldier’s voice came towards the box. He was not sure what was about to happen, but he was sure it was going to be loud.

“Your incompetency will not be taken lightly, nurse!” the Soldier was shouting at somebody.

“Now now, Soldier,” the Medic sounded patient, “You’re getting flustered. Let me get something for that for you.”

“I don’t want your crummy _medicine_! I won’t be tricked by your Nazi bullshit!” the Soldier shouted some more.

The Medic sighed audibly, “For the last time, I am not a Nazi.”

“You, the Nazi, and Heavy, a Commie! I didn’t fight and win the damn war to fight next to Nazi scum and dirty Commies!” the Soldier roared with outrage.

“Soldier, you don’t even know what you’re talking about,” the Medic said, his tone still patient.

“I’ll turn over every damn piece of evidence in this damn infirmary! I’ll be sure that you never work in this place again! I’ll be sure you never see the light of day again!” on Soldier’s last word, the box was flung over violently.

“Soldier stop!” the Medic shouted.

It was too late as Spy’s body flopped painfully against the walls of the box until it settled. The lid of the box fell aside, revealing light and the legs of the Soldier and the Medic, both from the RED team.

“Soldier, please stop!” the Medic rushed towards the Soldier as he threw a gurney.

The Soldier turned, his eyes falling upon the Spy, “YOU HAVE A BLU IN HERE!”

“Soldier!” the Medic leaped towards the Soldier to stop him, but he man rounded on him.

The Medic was not ready for the man to be armed with one of his own scalpels. He brought it right into the Medic’s chest, causing him to call out in pain. He tried to push the Soldier off, but the American just started pounding him in the face with his fists.

Spy felt a little bit of victory, but it was bitterly empty. It was not him who was hurting the Medic, but at least he was getting what he had coming. That in itself was somehow satisfying.

The Medic had already stopped moving when a big figure came charging into the infirmary. The Soldier did not have time to get to his feet, let alone react, before he was being body slammed to the ground and his spine contorted. The snap crackling and popping occurred before the Heavy finally clambered to his feet.

Spy watched with bated breath. He was not sure what would happen, or if perhaps the Heavy might come over and kill him. He was not sure if it would be torture or just direct death, sending him to respawn. It had not been made clear to him if the Medic had guarded against the others killing his experiment on the BLU Spy.

The Heavy went down to one knee, scooping up the Medic. That surprised the Spy, seeing as the Medic was already dead and certainly would not have any response. He would soon be scooped up by the respawn, as would the Soldier, where they would probably have another tiff.

The RED Heavy pulled the Medic’s body close, hugging him tightly. His head was bowed, but Spy could see the pained look on the man’s face. He started whispering little apologies too, switching between Russian and German.

Spy became aware of the ebbing feeling at the edges of his vision. His mind started to fade, and his thoughts became muddy. He could not understand the big man’s mutterings anymore, as he went on in Russian and German to the Medic’s body.

 

BLU Spy opened his eyes when his feet hit the floor. He could have cheered with delight at the simple feeling of standing on his feet. It was a feeling he had taken for granted, and would never do that again, not after being kept in a cold corpse box for who knew how long. Of course, his disappearance did not go unnoticed. It never went unnoticed.

“Where you been, Spy?” he heard the Australian as he stepped out of respawn.

“Expecting me here at this time?” Spy put on his best smile as he turned to the Sniper.

Sniper chuckled and shook his head as he pushed off of the wall, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. You don’t usually disappear this long, even for side missions. You woulda at least said something. Wouldn’t you have?”

Spy raised an eyebrow, “I don’t tell you everything.”

The Sniper laughed at that, “Well it’s Wednesday and I’m ready to tell you about that something I’ve been keeping quiet about.”

That piqued Spy’s interest, distracting him from what he had just been through. He ignored the fact that he had spent an entire weekend, plus Monday and Tuesday in a corpse box. He was enthused that the Sniper had been waiting for him. He could think about the implications of everything later, after he was done getting out of the Sniper the bit of information he had been hiding the past couple of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When your body is helplessly flung around in a metal box, your insides become battered - you know that stuff that needs to function normally or you die. Spy basically dies of internal bleeding here, just to clear up any confusion.


	11. Old Men Been Fighting Too Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's content left a grudge between BLU Spy and RED Medic. Spy gets a little too into character though and plays therapist a little too much. It also gives him something to think about.

January 5, 2001

BLU Sniper looked out over the battlefield. He was about to headshot the RED Medic when he saw the man cry out and fall forward. Sniper chuckled to himself as he saw the BLU Spy dip away behind a building to hide.

“Idiot’s got a bounty on his head from that Medic by now,” he chuckled, as he noted the Heavy’s emotional reaction. The man seemed to have something out for the doctor, perhaps they were close like brothers.

He figured he and Spy were like that, like brothers in a sense. For the most part, they told each other everything, except the most private and personal secrets. He made sure to try and get revenge on Spy’s killers whenever he could manage, and he had seen Spy get revenge for him as well. It was a nice trade off that they had talked about during their drinks together.

“Not out of disrespect, but he’s just poking a bear,” a familiar French accent caught his attention.

Sniper spun around and fumbled as he tried to get his kukri out. The switch for the blade was difficult, and his fumble gave the RED Spy enough time to catch his arm. Sniper cried out in pain and darted away out of reach.

He brought the blade up to shoulder height, ready to swing it. Spy side stepped each swing, narrowly avoiding every advance with the dangerous blade. The man was quick, swift and well trained for close contact combat.

He barely even saw the Spy coming when he came into his space and slipped the butterfly blade in between his ribs. While he was trying to recover from the wound, the Spy leaped around him, taking him down from behind.

 

Sniper respawned next to the Spy. Spy was muttering angrily. Somewhere in that mess of French was the word Medic and Sniper could not help but chuckle.

“Still having that _friendly competition_ with the enemy Medic?” Sniper snickered.

“The man has an apparent bounty on my head,” Spy growled with disdain.

“Been like that for damn near ten years now, right?” Sniper chuckled.

“Seems so,” Spy turned his head away slightly, as if thinking about something. Perhaps there was something Spy remembered that had started this whole thing.

“What do you make of it?” Sniper suppressed a chuckle. He knew better than to ask direct questions about it, so he stuck with something vague.

“Not much,” Spy replied, with a tone that sounded like admission. Sniper doubted that it was. “I will have to be a bit cleverer with the doctor next time.”

Sniper said nothing more as he headed out to the battlefield. He took cover behind some raised tin, which was quickly blasted by enemy fire. He quickly checked the area through his scope and found BLU Spy changing his disguise. From where he was going, Sniper guessed he was going for revenge on the Medic.

“Bloody idiot,” he muttered, changing his aim to the enemy Heavy. Too late to react, Sniper took a few bullets to his head and neck.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The Heavy was shouting at the top of his lungs as he showered bullets on the enemy. Such a delightful sight to see so much red on BLU uniforms. The RED Medic looked around, searching for a certain Spy who might show his face for revenge. He wanted the Medic to know when he would take revenge. He wanted the enemy German to know that he was there to make his life hell.

How everything had come to this, he had no idea. It took the Heavy’s loud prompting to bring him out of his thoughts and into the battle though. He hurried forward, chasing after his colleagues as they advanced. They were making their way into the BLU base, so their Spy could slip in and out successfully with the intelligence. The problem was that they needed to give him enough time so that he was not under heavy fire when he came out of the building.

“Charge me doctor!” the Heavy called over his shoulder.

The Medic glanced down at the tool in his hands, “What?” He was hardly up to eighty percent charge at the moment. He was not ready with an uber.

“No time! Must charge now doctor!” Heavy roared.

“I am not charged!” the Medic called back to him.

“What?” the Heavy turned his head to look at him. At that moment, the BLU Scout came barreling through and shot him.

“NOOOOOO!” he could not be any more coherent in that moment as he watched his dearest fall. He could not even begin to fathom why the Heavy had assumed he had a charge already, without hearing the doctor say there was any charge.

“Sorry about your…dear lover,” a familiar French voice caught his attention.

He quickly switched his medigun for the saw, swinging around for a nearby Spy. When his saw hit air, he was not dissuaded from his suspicions. He started moving around, zig zagging and turning so that the Spy would have to work to try and get to his back.

“Playing hard to get, I see,” the Spy taunted, his voice coming from a completely different direction.

The Medic shuffled around, trying to find where the Spy’s cloaking device would stop working. It could not hold out much longer, unless he snuck away out of earshot to decloak and put up a new cloak.

“Come out and fight me like a man!” he called out, hoping to bait the Spy.

“Not on your dear life,” that voice crawled up his spine before a blade landed between his shoulder blades. The last thing he heard was the snorting laughter of the BLU Spy over him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Scout rounded a corner to find the Soldiers facing off. The BLU Demo had fallen nearby, his posterior placed awkwardly into the air. That left the BLU Soldier against the RED Soldier, RED Scout and the RED Pyro. Somewhere off in a nearby building, he could hear the RED Engineer building a new sentry.

“Heya chucklenuts!” Scout called out, baiting his RED counterpart. The two ran about, chasing each other back and forth shooting. It took a lot to escape the RED Pyro though, who was eager to set somebody on fire.

“Incoming!” the RED Soldier called out.

The Engineer screamed, as his equipment blew up. Scout turned his head momentarily, glancing over to see the BLU Spy’s decloak, before he quickly cloaked again. He imagined the guy had run off to find some other sap to stab in the back.

His head came back around just in time to see the RED Demo come crashing in. He was yelling at the top of his lungs, flinging a club of meat around like a baton. He looked like he was already halfway to hell with how drunk he was. It was only a matter of time before he crashed himself into a wall or something.

“Whoa! Whoa! Watch out!” Scout called to the Soldier, too late to see that he had already rocket jumped out of the way of the stickies.

Scout quickly dodged out of the way of more explosives the demo was throwing at him. He was being cornered though, as the Pyro came at him from the other side with flames. It did not help that his counterpart was taunting him and shooting at him from long range.

“You BLUs can’t do anything right!” the RED Scout chuckled.

“Why don’t you come say that to my face!” the BLU Scout leaped up to grab the edge of the top step of a set of stairs, pulling himself up and over. He managed to get out of the way just in time for a cloud of flames to come up towards him.

The RED Soldier rocket jumped and landed nearby him. He paused only to reload his rocket launcher. Scout quickly looked around to find that he was being surrounded by REDs. He was pleasantly surprised when the Soldier cried out in pain, falling to the ground with a knife in his back.

The BLU Spy quickly grabbed his butterfly knife and threw up a cloak. He disappeared from sight, probably getting to a distance where he could approach the enemy better, but now they were aware. They were aware that he was nearby and BLU Scout was not sure if he would come back to help him with the rest of the REDs trying to trap him.

“Maggots!” he heard a Soldier roar as he came crashing down upon the RED Demo.

Scout turned to see the Soldier give the now dead RED Demo an L-shaped salute, before charging after the RED Scout. The BLU Scout himself had to rush and get his feet underneath of himself, as he attempted to escape the reach of the Pyro’s flames. The guy was shouting something muffled within his mask, probably some battle cry or weirdly polite request for him to hold still.

Spy cried out in pain as he was set on flames, which revealed him to the world. Scout ran right past him, rushing backwards with his shotgun at the ready. The Pyro charged the Spy though, wanting to get rid of the sneaky bastard, not that Scout could blame him.

Scout was sure that nobody liked the Spies – either of them. Even teammates did not like Spies. They would rather see the lazy sneaky frogs die in a fire – not unlike the Pyro’s flames even. Scout kind of wanted to laugh at him getting burned, especially with all the stuff that went on lately.

The Soldier let out a screaming battle cry as he charged the Pyro, slamming him on the head with a shovel. The Pyro tried to turn on the Soldier, but the man jumping around kept slamming them over the head with the shovel until they finally fell. That weird death themed top hat even rolled off of the Pyro’s head as he fell.

Soldier ran towards the Spy as Scout headed towards him. He was going to tell him that he did a good job, but the man just ignored him. He seemed more concerned about Spy’s burns than anything.

“You alright?” Soldier asked, taking Spy by the arm.

“I’ll be fine, just need to see the doctor,” the Spy replied, patting out the flames on his suit, “Or perhaps our Pyro.”

“Go now,” Soldier pointed towards one of the spaces between buildings, “Medic is that way. Follow the concrete where you’ll find Heavy with Medic.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Spy threw up a cloak and hurried off. The clicking of his Italian leather shoes faded into the distance.

Scout was just reloading his shotgun when the Soldier rounded on him. He was surprised by the sudden angered look on his face. He took a step back away from the Soldier, unsure of what he was going to do next.

“You do not leave a soldier behind, maggot!” the Soldier raised his voice high and got up into Scout’s face.

Scout took another step back, feeling heat in his face. He was intimidated, aware that Soldier might get violent. He had seen him beat the crap out of the other guys before, either out of anger or because something else was going on.

“Do you understand me?” the Soldier kept his angry disposition, as he stepped closer to Scout.

“I got it! I got it!” Scout exclaimed.

“Even a Spy!” Soldier raised a finger to Scout’s face, shaking it with fury.

“Alright! Alright! I got it!” Scout put up his hands defensively, one hand still baring the shotgun.

“Next time I see you abandon a teammate, I’ll have you court marshalled!” Soldier raised his voice a bit higher.

Scout wanted to tell him that that was not possible. They were not working for the United States military, they were working for a private business. He decided to shut up about it though, because he did not want to find out what kind of consequences the Soldier might make up for him.

He followed after Soldier as he charged off. They made their way to where the others were. Scout was quiet though, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He was not yet sure if Soldier had had his fit, or if he might get pissed again.

 

*********************************************************************

 

BLU Spy crept around the back of a rock, watching carefully for the gate. He was disguised as the RED Sniper, hoping that one of his colleagues would be out soon, since the man had just recently died. He smirked when he saw the RED Medic charge out after the Heavy. They were speaking in German.

“What do you mean you did not have charge?” the Russian asked, with confusion painted across his face.

“I mean I did not have a charge! Why would you think that?” the Medic exclaimed, with frustration.

“I heard you shout that you had charge!” the Heavy replied.

“You are hearing things,” the Medic growled angrily. He started healing the Heavy to get his charge up.

“I’m sorry,” the Heavy cringed visibly.

Spy fell in behind the Medic, careful not to be heard. He followed them all the way to where the heavy fire was. The noise was enough to cover the Medic’s scream when Spy drive his knife in between his shoulder blades.

Before the Heavy could check on the Medic, Spy dragged the body out of view, and put on the Medic’s disguise. When the Heavy looked over his shoulder at him, Spy flashed him some teeth in a smile.

“You are not mad, doctor?” the Heavy asked.

Not wanting to raise suspicion, the Spy sighed. “I am still…angry…but you’re going to need to pay better attention. Maybe get your ears checked,” he replied in German.

“Okay,” the Heavy nodded with a sheepish look on his face. Such a strange look on such a vicious man.

Spy switched to English, “Move forward! We need to press them out of the base!”

Heavy nodded, “Heal me doctor!”

Spy darted forward, while the Heavy’s back was turned to him. He leaped up to get to the upper vertebrae as he drove the knife into the man’s spine. He cried out in pain, toppling over into a large heap.

Suddenly, the RED Demoman was chasing him. “Get back here, you snake!” the Demo called after him. He was shooting explosives at him, which he barely managed to escape from.

He slipped up a set of stairs to what remained of a platform from an old building. He leaped off of the back, ignoring the pain in his leg. He darted off towards the RED respawn to stop the next man to come out. He parked in the spot behind the rock again, waiting to hear the gate open.

 

After a few minutes, the RED Scout came out. The boy was difficult to catch, but Spy managed to convince him that he was the Medic waiting for Heavy. The Scout gave him a weird look, with his nose scrunched up with disgust.

“Yea sure, wait for the Heavy. Don’t bother with anybody else on your team!” Scout said, angrily.

Spy blinked at him, giving him a confused and innocent look, “Scout what do you mean?”

“You only ever heal the Heavy! You’re always on his back! Why don’t you got nobody else’s backs!” Scout exclaimed. There was so much frustration in that boy’s words.

“Scout, if you’re troubled by something, then talk to me about it,” Spy said to him, trying to sound like a concerned medical professional.

“No. Don’t even worry about it,” Scout threw his arm around obnoxiously to dismiss the conversation.

“Scout, do you want me to pocket you?” Spy asked, getting a bit closer to the Scout. Maybe he could get to the boy’s back while he was standing still and stab him before the real Medic came out.

“Nah,” Scout flung his arm around again, “Just…go fuck yourself. Go fuck Heavy. I don’t fucking care.”

The boy clicked his gun, turning to run off. Spy had a small window of opportunity, so he darted forward. He brought the butterfly knife over his head and brought it down on the boy’s shoulder, missing the Spine. The youth cried out in pain, not even crying out for Medic. Whether that was because he did not believe the Medic would help him or because he realized that the Medic was the BLU Spy, he did not know.

He pulled the knife out and wrapped a free arm around the youth. He dragged him around the rock, struggling with him until he could slip the knife into his spinal cord. He held the boy there, until he stopped struggling. He heard the respawn gate open and quickly put on the Scout disguise.

He rushed out to meet the Medic, “Medic! Help me!”

The Medic growled as he turned to the Spy, completely unaware or at least not yet wary of the Spy. He rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the arm, “What did you do this time?”

“Ow! Ow!” Spy pretended to have injured the arm the man was holding.

The Medic rolled his eyes with a sigh and released his arm, “You should be less reckless! You might not have to charge all the way back here for medical attention!”

“Yea well, if you were helping the rest of us _out there_ then we wouldn’t be charging back here!” Spy shouted at him, bringing up the boy’s earlier frustration.

“What?” the man gave him that confused and innocent look, “What the hell do you mean? I have been out there doing my work trying to heal everybody!”

“Sure, ‘cept you are always pocketing Heavy!” Spy spat, with an irritated tone, “Always the fucking Heavy!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but when you’re a massive killing machine, I’ll pocket you,” the Medic replied, snidely, “Besides, you always run off too fast for me to even aim at you! If you didn’t run off every damn time you called for me, I would heal you more often!”

“I am in the aim of sentries, BLU Engie and the BLU Sniper, I can’t stand still!” Spy proclaimed, throwing up his arms with the Scout’s type of obnoxious gestures.

“Then it cannot be helped,” Medic glared down his nose at him.

The gate opened and they both turned to see the Heavy. The man was reloading his minigun when he looked up at them. He glanced between the two with confusion. Maybe he saw the haughty look on the Medic’s face, and the irritation on the Spy’s – what looked like the RED Scout’s face.

“Everything alright?” the Heavy asked, with concern.

“Yes yes,” the Medic sighed, waving a hand dismissively, “Let’s get moving. We’ve likely lost a lot of ground. The BLUs are pushy today.”

“Does not seem okay,” the Heavy was glancing between the Medic and the Scout. He had such a look of concern that bespoke deeper emotions.

Spy glanced between the Heavy and the Medic thoughtfully. Everything fit into place, it really did, but he never pegged the straight laced RED Medic for the type to go for a man both bigger and more masculine than himself. But he had been wrong about the BLU Soldier, so perhaps he had been wrong about the RED Medic. He was not sure how far he could be wrong about the man. Perhaps he was not quite as straight laced and strict to the rules as the Spy had thought.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” the Spy said, still using the Scout’s gestures. He had to play it up so long as he was in disguise.

“No, don’t,” the Medic raised a hand to stop him, “We are needed at the front. We can discuss this later.”

“And that’s just it! You and Heavy, charging to the front! Needed at the front! You know what? I am so sick and tired of your attitude!” Spy walked over and took a chance at jabbing his finger into the German’s chest.

“Me? My attitude?” his eyes flared with anger and disgust.

“Now is not time for anger, doctor,” the Heavy insisted.

“Well the boy wants to have it out! So let’s have it out!” the Medic exclaimed.

“No doctor,” the Heavy insisted.

“All I’m saying is that if you’d pour a little more effort into healing the rest of us, and not just focusing on the Heavy, we wouldn’t have these issues!” Spy exclaimed, stirring up the logic with a bit of emotional backing.

“Is this true?” Heavy looked from the Spy to the Medic. He had such a look of concern that Spy thought he might actually be helping their team too much. “Do you focus on me and ignore the others?” Heavy asked, with a somber look on his face.

“No!” the Medic exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“All the time!” Spy flung his arms up into the air like Scout would.

“Stay out of it, kinder!” the Medic barked at him.

Spy almost laughed at that. Kinder, meaning child. That was something he had not been called in almost a century.

“I started this! I’ll finish it!” Spy spat.

The Medic rounded on him, angrily, “I’ve heard enough out of you! Now go to the frontlines! You are needed there! We’ll discuss this with you later!”

“I’m not being shoved off by some kraut!” Spy shouted.

“Medic should pocket Scout,” Heavy offered.

“No!” Medic turned to the Heavy, “I’m not pocketing this boy! He will run off out of range far too much! I can’t even get him to full health normally!”

“Then pick other mercenary,” Heavy offered, with a small shrug, “Doctor cannot focus on one man.”

“This is not the issue at hand, Heavy,” Medic insisted.

“Then what is issue?” the Heavy growled.

“Don’t worry about it, Heavy,” Medic insisted.

“But this is problem!” the Heavy exclaimed.

The respawn gate opened and the RED Soldier came out. He came charging out with a roar. Spy took a step back as he came close, wary that he might get called out for being a Spy. He was known for team killing for that very reason.

“What are you sissies doing back here? It’s time to get out there!” the Soldier roared, “Move!”

“We’re trying!” Medic turned on his medigun, aiming it at the Soldier, “Let’s go!”

The Soldier blasted away, sending himself through the air. The Medic sighed in response. His entire expression bespoke sarcastic lack of disbelief. He had expected nothing less from the Soldier, so his expression said ‘why do I even bother?’ which made Spy snicker.

Medic turned to the Heavy with a sigh, “Let’s go!”

“Then Medic will speak to Scout about this problem after battle?” Heavy asked, throwing Spy a concerned look.

Spy became aware that he was running out of time. This conversation was starting to drag on longer than he liked. The real RED Scout was sure to come running out soon.

“Let’s get going!” he shouted, hoping to dissuade their suspicions.

“Right!” the Medic fell in behind the Heavy.

Spy started running and jumping at first, before he landed behind the Medic. The man glanced over his shoulder as they rounded a corner. Spy flashed him a glare, as if to assure him that he was angry.

When the Medic rounded the corner, Spy rushed around to find a spray of bullets coming from his own team. He was hit, causing him to cry out. The Medic immediately turned to heal him, making his plan to backstab him first impossible.

“Medic, stay with Scout!” Heavy roared, as he pushed forward.

Spy could see the man was taking a lot of damage and would soon fall to his counterpart. Without the Medic to back him, he was not the unstoppable killing machine the Medic described him as. It was no wonder the Medics tended to focus on the heavy weight team members.

If the Heavy fell, then all that was left for Spy was to kill the Medic. But he knew the man cared too much for the Russian to simply let him lose all of his health while he was nearby. He would have to distract the man, move him to a safer area to be stabbed, so he could not bring up the Heavy’s health.

“Follow me doc!” Spy called out, heading into a building, “I know a short cut! We’ll take the fastest route to their intel!”

He was only half lying. It was a cut through the same battlements, it was just safer. Going through the thick of the fighting would have been faster, but Spy had grown accustomed to these routes, where there were fewer fighters. It was also a great place with corners, where he could ambush unsuspecting mercenaries.

“Oh hey what’s up?” Spy was taken by surprise by the BLU Scout. He felt his face grow pale as the boy switched his bat for his shotgun.

He was quick to move out of the way, out of the line of fire. Medic quickly protested in frustration and anger, throwing out a few slurs in German as well. Spy wanted to chuckle, but he quickly noticed that the Scout was not firing yet either.

Twenty seconds went on before Spy charged the boy. This was not the BLU Scout. This was not the hot head that he knew to be all too reckless, as reckless as his real RED counterpart.

Spy could be reckless too, he would just do so with a bit of care. When he charged the BLU Scout however, a shot rang past him before the disguise disappeared to reveal the RED Spy. He dodged from side to side, weaving as he backed away.

“Hey! There’s a Spy over here!” BLU Spy stumbled back towards Medic, hoping to avoid suspicions of the other Spy.

RED Spy cleared his throat, “Gentlemen?”

“Get out of the way, idiot!” the Medic charged forward, quickly followed by the BLU Spy.

He saw the RED Spy watching him out of the corner of his eye. They were both thinking the same thing. While the Medic was charging off on what was supposed to be a shortcut, the BLU Spy pivoted, catching the RED’s arm. The man was about to backstab him. He dropped the disguise just in time to shove him back around a corner. He charged after him in the dim light, pulling out his own knife.

They moved almost in sync. They had a rhythm, as these things always did. There was a shot at the foe here, a feint there, a quick jab here. It was always difficult to figure out how these things will go with the other Spy, who was easily equally matched with the BLU Spy.

That was until the RED Medic came charging back in. He shot multiple times, his needles landing in the wall. BLU Spy grabbed the other by the wrists and flung him around in a dizzy spin. He released one hand to grab the man’s disguise kit, quickly changing his disguise to that of the RED Scout. He stuffed the disguise kit into his own suit and pulled out his own to throw on the same disguise.

When they came out of the spin, they were facing the Medic. RED Spy turned to him with furious words in French, “Give me back my disguise kit!”

“No!” he was quick to deflect every attack. All the while, the RED Medic looked on, trying to decide which was the BLU Spy and which was the RED Spy. Both of them looked like the RED Scout and it was throwing him off.

“Look! He’s the BLU Spy!” RED Spy proclaimed in RED Scout’s voice.

“No way!” BLU Spy did the same with the voice, as the idea flourished, “I am obviously the RED Spy. He does not know the RED Scout. You can disguise as him, but you do not know him!”

The Medic looked utterly perplexed from one face to the other. He was not sure how to decide on which was which.

“I was just with the RED Scout before he ran off,” the Medic stated, his eyes dancing wildly between the Spies, “Which one of you knows the Scout better?”

The RED Spy spoke first, “Scout’s favorite color is red, but he prefers to wear green. He has a crooked molar that you have mentioned to him to get fixed but he never has. He took his family’s deaths poorly and we all suffered through it, but we did it with all the cheer we could to keep his spirits up. You used to keep him under your wing, but now he follows the laborer like a father figure. And his name is Zachary Belling.”

The BLU Spy quickly stepped up, “Scout is reckless and rough around the edges but he seeks out father figures. He seeks them out hard, and when you got…distracted…”

He did not know exactly what he was going to say before he said it, he just told it like he was sure a normal person would tell it. Part of it was a bluff, guessing at what situations were like with the RED Scout. But of course, he had no doubts in his act as the Scout, or his knowledge of the Scout, as he disguised as the RED Scout more than RED Spy ever had.

“That was when he turned to the Engineer. And yes, he can be brash and rude. But the boy’s been through a lot, and we all know that his good intentions shine through even his harshest words. That’s why he puts up a front though, because he has good intentions, but does not have a single father figure to tell him that he is doing alright,” the BLU Spy finished with a sidelong glance at his counterpart.

The RED Spy opened his mouth for a moment before his face became pelted by needles. Before the body fell and dropped the disguise, BLU Spy dropped into a cloak. He moved across the way and crouched into a corner to wait. The RED Medic stared with disbelief at the corpse of his teammate, before looking around with paranoia. Eventually he would have to leave in one direction or another though, and that would give Spy a chance to stab him. And that was what he did.

When he left the room in search of another victim, he got to thinking about all of that though. He was not sure why he got dragged into playing the Scout for so long. It felt so odd and out of place for him. He should have just stabbed them and been done with it.

At the end of the day, it did not really matter. But, he could not help but think of how well he knew the enemy Scout. He could have profiled him like the other Spy had, but that was not like getting to know a person. Spy had tracked all of his enemies on the field and off the field. He knew their secrets, their pastimes, their troubled minds…

He wondered if he was like the RED Spy, in that he did not know the BLU Scout so well. Maybe he did not even know the BLU Soldier as well as he had thought. Maybe it was time to do some more focusing on his teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, if you think about how much the Spies disguise as the other team members so much, you would start to think about how they know the enemy team better than their own.


	12. Andrew and Jacques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another loss for BLU team. They could not get back the win they had on New Year's day. Still, that has not gotten Spy down, as he is persistent in making sure Soldier sees where his attention is. It pays off with an eye-full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend this chapter to go this way. I don't know why but the part about the tattoos got me thinking about the military and my grandpas a lot.  
> Anyways, here's a bunch of fluff.  
> Edit: I need to stop writing at 1am. lol

January 12, 2001

Andrew smiled at the Scout from where he stood. He was watching the boy help the Pyro, after the fully suited mercenary took a blast from the RED Demo’s stickies. It seemed that the youth had finally gotten it through his head that he should not leave any man behind.

When he turned to the right, he saw the Medic and Heavy being backed to where Scout and Pyro were, trying to fend off the artillery of the other Heavy and Medic. It would only be a matter of time before one team’s Heavy fell. He would not wait for it to be the BLU Heavy.

He rocket launched across the spans between himself and the RED team. He aimed himself right over the German’s head, bringing his weight down to crush the Medic. The man screamed out in pain, causing the Heavy to turn his aim. His bullets came at the Soldier before he could react, but it gave the BLU Heavy enough time to pellet the man to death. It was definitely an honorable death for Andrew.

 

When he respawned, Andrew listened to the disappointed tsking of the Administrator’s voice, as she announced the BLU’s loss. “What? But we were doing well!” he exclaimed, to nobody in particular.

He looked at his hands, but there was no rocket launcher in them. All he had were his fists to fend off heavily armed mercenaries. He would not be dissuaded from the fight so easily though. If he was doomed to die again, then so be it.

 

Andrew respawned again, after being shot to death by the RED Scout and the RED Medic. They seemed pissed at him or something. They both really wanted to fill him with bullets and needles, like they wanted to cast a curse on him.

Spy respawned right after him and mumbled something in French. Andrew gave him a puzzled look, so Spy gave him a smile. He wiped the befuddlement from his face and grinned at the Spy.

Spy sidled towards, “Well, work’s done for the day. Doing anything special?”

Andrew opened his mouth, about to speak, when the Sniper came strolling over with big steps, “Hey there, mate! You wanna go bowling? Me and the guys are driving out to this new alley that’s openin’ up in the local town. Wanna go?”

“Not right now Sniper,” Spy waved his arm dismissively. He was focused on Andrew and his answer to the question.

“Hey, you could at least bother to look at me, when I talk to you!” Sniper growled, irritably.

Spy turned his head to look at Sniper, “You could bother to acknowledge that I am already within conversation…but I see that the both of us are immature.”

Sniper bit something back as he glanced between the Spy and the Soldier. Something flared up in his eyes, something that Soldier could only equate to jealousy. Was the Sniper jealous of the Spy? No, could not be that. Of Andrew? That could not be it either. As far as Andrew knew, the man liked women and women only.

Andrew glanced down at his feet, feeling awkward where he was standing. He felt like all of the tension built up was about to snap and he would need to do more than jerk back his head in order to escape its backlash. He glanced between Sniper and Spy curiously, shyly keeping his head down whenever their attention veered his way.

He still remembered that Spy had some form of crush on the Sniper. How deep that went, Andrew was not sure. Based on what he could gather, maybe it was just an innocent crush, driven by lust and many lonesome years. That should not matter though, because Spy was acting attentive to Andrew instead of his long-term crush.

“I may want to bowl later,” the Spy admitted, “But not right now, mon ami.”

Sniper frowned at him. He still did not like the Spy’s answer. Maybe it was out of character from the Sniper’s perspective, or maybe he was noticing that the Spy was paying more attention to Andrew than himself. Andrew was conflicted by this, feeling bad for taking Spy from his friend, but at the same time flattered that he was the center of the man’s attention.

“What does ‘mon ami’ mean?” Andrew asked, with a smile.

“It means ‘my friend’ in French,” Spy replied, reciprocating the smile.

“Oh,” Andrew’s smile grew a bit as he got an idea, “I’m not busy, mon ami.”

He could tell that he must have butchered the enunciation. It did not sound anything like the way Spy said it. Still, Spy gave him a small smile.

“What? But I…” Sniper had a hurt look on his face.

Andrew lost some of his smile. He felt bad for taking so much of the Spy’s attention. Still, he wanted to spend time with the Spy, so he was not ready to give up just yet.

“Perhaps another time,” Spy offered.

Sniper’s disgruntled temperament grew more sour. It seemed to darken in his eyes as he glared at the Spy, “Fine mate.”

“What about…what if…what say we just all go grab drinks?” Soldier offered. His face was hot as he tried to struggle through the words that would keep the peace.

“That’s alright, mate,” Sniper threw his arm, dismissively as he headed off.

“W-wait!” Andrew called after him, desperate to change his mind.

“Don’t worry about it, Soldier,” the Spy said dismissively.

Andrew looked at the door that Sniper exited through, feeling a little ashamed. He had hoped to make peace with him, so that Spy’s friendship with him would be okay. He did not want to be the reason Spy was down his best friend.

“How about a drink?” Spy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He had a strangely chipper mood for somebody who had just lost a match again.

“You’re not upset?” Andrew asked, as Spy drew him out the door.

“Why would I be?” Spy had a hearty smile on his face.

“Um…” Andrew looked down at the ground in front of his feet as they headed through the halls.

“Are you upset?” Spy squeezed his shoulder.

“I…” he looked up at Spy, unsure of how to answer, “I’m disappointed about the match. And I feel bad about Sniper.”

“Sniper? Don’t worry about him,” Spy said, reassuringly, “He’s a grown man. He can handle himself. Would a drink make you feel better? Or perhaps…we could go for something to eat?”

Andrew turned his head away, unsure of how to answer. Spy was taking the hesitation as a sign of depression.

“What is wrong?” Spy pleaded, squeezing his shoulder again, “Don’t be shy. Is it about the loss? Are you feeling under the weather?”

Spy was frowning now, Andrew could see that from the corner of his eye. He sighed under the pressure of the man’s gaze, “It’s not that. I just…feel bad.”

“Feel bad?” the Spy sounded surprised, “What? You mean like you are ill?”

Andrew shook his head. He was not sure how to make it clear to him. He felt like his own words were just failing him.

“No I’m not ill,” Andrew shook his head.

Spy’s arm dropped, leaving his shoulder feeling cold, “Then what is wrong, Soldier? I do not understand. I hope this is just a misunderstanding of language.”

Andrew looked up at him as he stopped. He swallowed down the rising feeling of uncertainty. He was a man dammit, and he would man up about this situation.

“It’s just that…I feel bad that you ditched Sniper,” he stated.

Realization hit Spy and his eyebrows shot up, “You’re concerned about his feelings?”

Andrew felt warmth fill his cheeks as he shied away, “You two are friends, right?”

“Yes, Soldier. We’re friends. Just friends. I thought you didn’t like me hanging around him,” Spy sounded a little irritated.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew turned his eyes to the ground, where his feet shuffled in the awkward silence, “I was jealous.”

“And you aren’t now?” Spy asked, “I am trying to be considerate of your feelings, Soldier. But I think we’re getting off course with that.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew muttered. He could not really explain himself very well now.

“Just tell me what you want, Soldier,” Spy persisted.

Andrew felt immediate regret hit him as words boiled up. He had yet to say them, he did not even know what he was going to say. He just knew that he was going to regret whatever he was about to say.

“I want to beat those bloody REDs into a pulp and send them home crying to their mommies!” he suddenly roared. It felt good to let it out, and it was not a lie, so he felt himself smiling as he spoke.

Spy sighed, “Be serious, Andrew.”

Andrew felt good hearing his name, “I want you to have your friends. I want you to have lots of friends. I just don’t want to be uncertain of what it is we are.”

Spy rolled his eyes, “In that case, you could have just said something.”

“What are we then?” Andrew asked. He felt a twinge in his back now though, underneath the brace.

He reached back to rub the spot, hoping the pain might just pass. If not, he would have to take a rain check and feel even worse about Spy dissing Sniper. Maybe he would send Spy off to apologize to his friend, while he went to his room to apply the ointment he had been using.

“Is something wrong with your back?” Spy asked, the moment Andrew started rubbing the spot.

Andrew winced, “Yea…well, I get pains in my back sometimes. It’s starting to get to me.”

Spy raised an eyebrow, “Like a knot in your back?”

“It’s not a knot,” Andrew shook his head.

“May I be of assistance?” Spy offered. There was something endearing about his way of persisting.

“I just need to go put my ointment on, that’s all,” Andrew shrugged, “It helps.”

Andrew watched as Spy’s face lit up. His hazel eyes took on a light of their own, as some sort of plan materialized within that mind. Behind those eyes, he was sure that cogs were turning at a break neck speed. Now, if only he understood why that look was so endearing and made his heart race this time.

“Go get your ointment,” Spy said, his lips twitching at the corners.

“Alright,” Andrew hesitated, “But…the um…you should go see Sniper then. You can patch things up with your pal.”

“No, Soldier, no,” Spy said, firmly. He sounded very commanding that time as he waved of the idea. “Go get your ointment and bring it to my room.”

“M-meet you in the smoking room then,” Andrew nodded slowly. He was not sure what the Spy’s idea was, but he was trying to concoct some idea of it.

“No,” Spy motioned for him to head off to his room, “Erm yes…meet me in the smoking room.”

Andrew nodded and headed on his way. He was not sure what they might do, but his mind spinning around ideas was only making it worse.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy sighed, a bit relieved to have a moment of reprieve. He had been concerned about Andrew’s mind in the conversation, as he did not seem to have his thoughts put together. It was a little sweet that he was concerned about the friendship with Sniper, but he should not have to worry about that. Besides, the Sniper could wait, and after a few drinks they would probably be back to pals again.

He started off past the recreation room towards his own room when the Sniper caught the corner of his eye. He did not make eye contact, but the Sniper reacted as if he had been coaxed. He practically charged into the hall after Spy with long strides. He reached out to grab Spy’s shoulder to turn him around.

“Hey! What was that all about?!” Sniper exclaimed.

“Nothing, I’ll talk to you later,” Spy brushed his hand off, not wanting to stop for a confrontation.

“What was all that in front of the Soldier?” Sniper scoffed. He quickly stepped around Spy to get in front of him, forcing him to halt. “What? Are you two friends now? Can’t hang out with me?”

Spy felt heat rise into his face, “No, I just-”

“Well you can just have your little boyfriend then,” Sniper growled, “I don’t need you to be a little piker in front of the Soldier. Have fun with the American mongrel!”

Spy had had enough, and grabbed Sniper by the collar of his jacket. He swung him around, using as much force as he could manage. He was at a bit of a disadvantage, being almost an entire head shorter than the lanky Australian. He slammed the taller man against a wall and gave him a good shaking to disorient him.

He put all of his anger and frustration into his voice, “With no due respect, mon ami, I owe you nothing. I do not have to remove myself from social graces, just to be your friend. So if I am friendly…and trust me, it surprises me, if I even become friends with the Soldier, then I will fucking excuse myself to have a good time with a new friend!”

Sometimes it was hard to tell what the Australian was thinking. Behind his shades, the Sniper was hiding whatever reaction he was having to this. He was definitely disoriented by the assault, but the words could have glossed over him, for all Spy could tell. He did not even look shocked at being assaulted.

“I ain’t here to judge you,” Sniper tried to brush him off.

“Then why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Spy held onto the man’s jacket for a bit too long, before he realized and released him. He took a step back, consciously aware that if the Soldier walked in, it would look like something it was not.

“Because you’re not like this,” the Sniper said.

“I’m not like what?” Spy asked, putting some challenge into his tone, “We’ve been friends for how long now? Do you really know me so well?”

“I would think so?” there was uncertainty in the Sniper’s voice, “We’ve been friends for near four decades, I think. I’m not sure.”

“Then be a dear friend, and let me have another,” Spy patted the man’s cheek, before he turned and headed on his way. He needed to meet the Soldier at his room so he could unlock it.

Behind him, he could hear the Sniper growling about how he was a stupid spook, a bloody spy, and then something about a mongrel. He thought maybe the last part was about the Soldier. Never mind it, he thought. He would push thoughts about the Sniper aside, because he was going to spend time with Andrew.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy was unlocking the door to the smoking room when Andrew arrived. He heard Andrew’s loud boot steps and smiled at him. He opened the door and motioned for him to step in first.

“Please, come in,” Spy gave a graceful twist of the wrist that motioned his fingers through the door.

Andrew obliged, stepping into the room, only to stand there and gawk. Everything looked different from what he remembered. It had been much emptier before, he was sure of that. The couch and the arm chair were still there though. But, now there was a dining table with two chairs, a coffee table with a fancy decoration carved into its wood, and a lovely vase displaying what look like blue daffodils.

“You have redecorated?” Andrew looked over his shoulder to the Spy, as he closed the door with great care.

“Do you like it?” Spy asked, “I thought it could use a bit more…to allow for other comforts.”

Andrew nodded, as he stepped toward the couch. If anything, Spy would have him sit down and that was the best place. Spy would then choose whether to take the cushioned chair or sit down next to him on the sofa.

When he got further he noticed the big rug. It was pretty and quite colorful, mostly adorned in blues that matched the flowers and pretty much all of the rest of the room’s color scheme. The rug looked suspiciously close to the fire place, usually only lit to warm the social area of the room – he only ever knew people to put such beautiful carpets close to fire and soot for one reason.

“Did you bring your ointment?” Spy interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes,” Andrew shook himself out of his thoughts. Those were bad thoughts to have at a time like this.

Spy motioned to the couch as he knew the man would. He followed Andrew to the couch and held out his hand, “Give it to me.”

He was sure that his face was red when he handed the ointment to Spy. Then he was practically pushed towards the couch, though the small hands were gentle. But when he went to sit down, Spy’s hand went to his shoulder to push him down.

“Take your shirt off and lie down,” Spy insisted.

“What? No!” Andrew shot to his feet, which he immediately regretted.

His hand went to his back as the pain shot through his back. He had more than overexerted himself at this point, and it was not a twinge anymore. He was lucky this was happening off the battlefield, because enemies did not care when you were having back problems, they would off you.

“Son of a-” Andrew grit his teeth in pain as he tried to stay on his feet.

“Let me help you,” Spy guided him back down to the couch, having him take a seat.

Gloved fingers played around his clothes, first pulling off his overcoat, then going for his over shirt. He had not been so bare in a long time, as he was sitting there with only pants, his under armor and his back brace. He was not sure whether the Spy was actually looking him over with those quizzical eyes, but he felt like he was being stripped down and analyzed.

“I didn’t know you wore a brace,” Spy said, his tone soft as his fingers searched for the latch.

Andrew decided to help, reaching around to undo the latch, as he had done a hundred million times before. He cleared his throat before he spoke, “I don’t tell people about it. A unit works best when the individuals set aside their problems.”

“That’s an unhealthy mindset,” Spy argued, “You should share your problems. We are mercenaries, but we are also a team. We are comrades. Right? We should be looking out for one another.”

“That is why I told Medic,” Andrew shrugged, “He gave me the ointment.”

Spy’s fingers started playing with the edges of his under armor. It tickled a little, having the unfamiliar touch. He grabbed the edges himself, rushing the under armor off of his head, if only to stop the tickling. When it came off though, he was bare skinned and felt quite vulnerable for it. That just made him feel ashamed, mentally kicking himself for feeling like a topless woman. He was a man, he had been a man all of his life, it was nothing new to be shirtless in front of another man. It did not help that he was attracted to the man who was looking at him.

“Please lay down,” Spy motioned to the couch. He gently guided Andrew onto his front, laying him out on the couch.

There was not a moment to react before the man crawled up behind him and straddled him. From this angle, Andrew could not lift his head, not without excruciating pain in his back. So, he waited, hoping that this was just something he did not understand because of French culture or something. Maybe it was something they did over in France, something that would be considered weird in America.

He was surprised when the cold ointment touched his skin. He knew it was the ointment because of that tingle it left on the surface and the way it dug into the muscles. He was relieved and a little curious about the fingers he felt rubbing into his muscles. As if Spy knew, he dug his little fingers, so soft and petite, into the muscles. Andrew did not even have time to think about suppressing a moan when he dug right into a sore spot.

“It would seem you do have a few knots in here, my friend,” Spy chuckled.

They were silent for a while as Spy concentrated on what he was doing. Andrew had to concentrate on not moaning too much and not squeaking like a little girl when he dug in those tender spots that hurt the worst. After a while, the ointment took full effect and his back became mostly numb to the pain, leaving his muscles more relaxed. Still, Spy worked his back, moving up from the lower area, spreading what was left of the ointment on his fingers to his upper back.

“What did you think I was going to do?” Spy finally broke the silence.

Andrew shrugged his shoulders dramatically and made an unsure sound. He could not think of something that Spy might have done otherwise. And even if he could think of something, he was not sure he wanted to share it.

“Do you think me so devious?” Spy leaned sideways, his weight shifting on the couch, as he tried to get a look at Andrew’s face. Andrew merely shrugged and made the unsure noise again. “You shot up with such surprise, you must have thought I was going to-” Spy cut off, his hands growing still, as a look of what seemed to be realization hit his eyes.

Andrew furrowed his brow, trying to read the expression. Whatever revelation he had was not shared with him. Andrew was completely out of the loop on the matter.

But then Spy started laughing. He started laughing so hard that Andrew’s hand shot up to stop him from tipping over. He almost collapsed on top of Andrew from all of his laughing, as he divulged to a snorting attempt to catch his breath.

Andrew listened in silence as Spy laughed. He was comfortable already, his back muscles warm and numb from the ointment, and somewhat loosened from the massage. So when Spy’s hand leaned his weight on him he did not mind. He just listened, his tension loosened by the moment of glee, as Spy lost himself in laughter. Andrew drew a deep breath and sighed as he peered over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” the Spy apologized, “I’m not sure what you were thinking I would do, Soldier. But I promise, I won’t do anything to you that you do not want me to.”

Spy’s hands returned to his back, working at the thick knots around his shoulder blades and lower back. He did not remember the last time he felt so relaxed. Of course he did not remember the last time he had been this close to somebody. But, he considered that to be beside the point.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy looked over from what he was reading as the figure stirred. Soldier sat up abruptly, bewildered by his surroundings and taking a moment to figure out what he was doing there. He needed an extra moment to realize that he was still shirtless.

“Sleep well?” Spy joked, setting his magazine aside.

Soldier gave him a sheepish nod, “I…didn’t mean to doze off. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Spy shuffled across the seat so that he was closer to the other man, “You were relaxed. I’m glad I could make you that comfortable.”

He was looking at the man’s face, whose eyes were turned down, when a hand engulfed his. He looked down to see that Soldier had not been looking down out of shyness, but because he was looking at Spy’s hands. Thick rough hands that were used to hard labor engulfed his own hands, gently touching and caressing them with what felt like affection.

“My…my back feels much better, thank you,” the Soldier managed, with a sheepish smile.

“But of course, Soldier,” Spy smiled, allowing the hand holding to last.

“Andrew,” the Soldier corrected.

“Right…Andrew,” Spy nodded slowly.

Andrew cleared his throat, “You may call me Soldier in front of the others. But, we are alone. Call me Andrew. Or Andy. Or Drew. Call me anything but my title.”

Spy stared at the back of Andrew’s hand for a while. There were some barely visible white lines that showed the years of stress and injury. The knuckles had improperly healed at some point after what he suspected to be war injuries – though perhaps that type of injury came from a bar fight. The skin itself was rough and worn from all of his years spent working with the tools of a mercenary, but his grip and movements were gentle, almost like handling a kitten.

“I…I can stop if you want me to,” Andrew interrupted his thoughts.

Spy looked at him and blinked. The man gave him a sheepish look, his thumb halting. Spy gave him a decisive smile.

“It’s alright,” he squeezed the hand holding his, “I rather enjoy it.”

Andrew smiled at him for that, his thumb resuming a circular pattern on the back of his hand. “Your hands are soft.”

“I work with gloves,” Spy shrugged, “I try to take care of my hands anyways.”

Andrew chuckled, “I’m no good at that.”

“I see,” Spy traced a faded scar with the index finger of his free hand, “You have a lot of stories carved into your hands.”

“Th-those are from when I was young…I did stupid things when I was young,” Andrew shied away, his face turning a bit red.

Spy merely shrugged, “We all do stupid things when we are young.”

“What did you do?” the question came so fast that Spy was left spinning for a moment.

“Me? Well…I…er…” he did not really want to talk about when he was young. He did not want to bring up such old time.

“I broke my knuckles in a bar fight when some hippies started harassing me and the boys about the war,” Andrew explained.

Spy looked the man in the eye, to find him patiently waiting for a response. So this was how it was going to be, a back and forth of experiences. Spy could do that, but he did not want to lie to him. That was what his training had taught him to do in these situations though, to make up lie after lie, piling them up so that the other person would never be able to dig through them all.

He pondered his option of telling him something about his real past, instead of a lie. He pondered what it was that he would tell him though. Telling him something real about his past was telling him something real about himself, something of his identity.

When he thought about it though, he wanted Andrew to know who he was. He wanted Andrew of all people to feel like he knew him. Today, tomorrow or the man he was fifty years ago, he wanted Andrew to know him.

“When I was fourteen I broke my first bone trying to rob a store after hours,” he finally admitted. It was out there now, it was flimsy but it was out there. A piece of information on his past, a piece of himself had been heard.

Andrew smiled at him, as if in appreciation for the shared information, “We don’t have to talk about the past if you don’t want to talk about the past.”

Spy smiled at him in gratitude, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome… _mon ami_!” Andrew smiled proudly at remembering that one.

Spy chuckled, both at the weird enunciation and the proud look on Andrew’s face. The distracted Soldier did not even remember the hand in his, so Spy snuck it up behind Andrew’s back, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. He knew Andrew would be strongly built, both as a marine veteran and as BLU’s Soldier, but he never thought he would look so good. He had thick shoulders and arms, built with thick cords of muscle. His middle was a bit pudgy, with a pooch that was usually held in by the back brace, but he was by no means soft, as every dimension of his torso seemed to be hard with muscle.

Giving Andrew a back massage had been more worth it than Spy had thought. His plan had been simple, and created a more intimate situation, where they would be in more than close quarters. Getting to touch the thick strong muscles on the other man felt good. After years of not being close to anybody, it felt wonderful to touch any part of a person. But this man’s body was attractively well-built. He was not quite body builder thick, but there was enough muscle in his arms and shoulders to be intimidating without a rocket launcher. Spy thought it was both attractive and a wonderful discovery.

He also discovered some ink that laid hidden beneath the under armor. A semper fidelis tattoo laid across his upper back, with dog tags hanging from the **S**. On his left bicep was the image of an old helmet rested upon an upright rifle, which was pitched up by a pair of war boots. His right arm held a globe with an eagle perched on top, and an anchor crossing through it. Above it were the words _semper fidelis_ and below were the letters **USMC**.

He carefully laid his hand over the opposite shoulder, trying to be subtle about his admiration. He may have expressed interest and even attraction before, but he was still a gentleman and would be subtle about eyeing somebody. It would have probably made the man sheepish again.

“Oh…did you already start drinking?” Andrew motioned to a bottle of champagne that was set out with two glasses.

“Not yet,” Spy rose to his feet to retrieve the bottle and glasses.

He put one glass into Andrew’s hand and sat down before pouring their glasses. He watched the other man from the corner of his eye. He seemed rather curious about what it would taste like, based on the smell, but looked a bit skeptical.

“Do you like champagne?” he asked, “I would have brought beers, but it had not occurred to me before.”

“Champagne is fine,” Andrew announced.

Spy held his breath, refusing to laugh, as he watched the Soldier throw back the glass like a shot of whiskey. It was not the fact that he did it, but the way he did it. It was the pink in his cheeks, the sudden shift in the eyes of uncertainty, and the way he indignantly threw the liquid down his throat, as though he had a point to prove. It was very difficult to prevent laughter though.

“Do you like champagne?” Andrew asked, glancing over at Spy’s glass.

He sipped it like wine, being patient with his drink, “I like it. It’s why I keep a stash of it.”

Andrew smiled, but then he suddenly frowned. He paused to tap a finger to his chin, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. His befuddled expression left Spy spinning for words for a moment.

“Andrew?” he called the man out of thought.

“What do I call you?” Andrew asked. There was a look of worry and concern in his eyes.

“What?” Spy was not sure where this must have come from or why.

“I don’t know what to call you,” Andrew explained, “Other than Spy, I mean.”

Spy hesitated, realizing that this might lead to a problem. As close as he wanted to be with Soldier, he was still not sure he could trust him to not tell everyone his name. Not that the man would simply go around purposefully telling people, but perhaps he might use the name at an inopportune time. That presented too many problems.

“That may not be a good idea,” Spy said, “If you got too comfortable with calling me by a name, you might call me that at the wrong time.”

“Oh…” disappointment shrouded Andrew’s face.

“You must understand that as a Spy, I must take precautions,” he insisted.

“I understand,” Andrew replied. There was still that look of disappointment though.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Spy squeezed Andrew’s shoulder gently.

“How about Jacques?” the man bounced back so fast that Spy needed a moment.

“What?” he finally managed to say.

“What if I call you Jacques? It’s the name you used at the restaurant for the reservations,” Andrew explained, “If it’s not your real name, I could use it. Can’t I?”

“I…but…” Spy stammered, at a loss for words.

“Then your identity will not be compromised,” the Soldier was absolutely grinning now, “And I will have a more intimate name to call you by.”

Spy looked the man in the eyes and nearly lost himself. That proud grin spread from ear to ear, as the man reveled in his own idea. As silly as it was, Spy could admit that it was a decent compromise. He might not be sharing his real name, but this way they could both pretend to be much closer than they already were.

“Call me whatever you like, Andrew,” Spy smiled, enjoying the look of glee on Andrew’s face at hearing those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semper fidelis: Forever Loyal (Latin)
> 
> A moment of prayer/silence/thought for those who have served in the US military, as well as the militaries of other countries. Those who fight in war do not choose the war, they choose to serve their country. They fight with loyal service to their fellow men on the battlefield, and they honor their kinsmen with their bravery.
> 
> In memory of Jay McGlothlin, US Marine; and Michael Pixley, US Navy.  
> Both beloved, both are missed.


	13. Sniper and Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reparations are made as Sniper and Spy have a sit down for drinks.

January 13, 2001

The bar was musty and dirty, as it usually was. After a long day at battle, it was nice to get away from the battlefront and the grunge of the base. Still, it would have been nice if the place were cleaned up, given the classy look it had back in the seventies.

“You’re late, mate,” the Australian stated, not even looking over his shoulder.

There were very few others around. There was the town drunk in the corner, passed out on his usual table. Another fellow, looking down on his luck, sat at another table, scratching at his unkempt mess of stubble that covered his lower face and neck. The Australian BLU Sniper was the last person, sitting at the bar itself, where he could easily order another beer from the barkeep.

Based on the lack of empty bottles, he had not been there very long. He had one beer in his hand, freshly opened on the bar. When Spy joined him, setting himself on the bar stool, a new bottle was quickly placed in front of him and opened. The barman knew their routine when they came in, and would quietly go about boozing them up until they were fully prepared to move on their way.

“I’m late?” Spy asked, with a pressing attitude.

“Yup,” Sniper took a sip of his drink, “About a day late, I reckon.”

“A day late?” Spy raised an eyebrow at him.

Sniper finally turned his head to look at him, “You ditched me yesterday.”

“What?” Spy scrunched his brow.

“You been shovin’ me off quite a bit lately,” Sniper added, pausing to take another drink. His face was contorted into a nasty snarl of disgust. “I don’t much like it.”

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he shook his head and shrugged.

“It’s either you avoidin’ me, or you piss me off just so you can go and hang out with somebody else,” Sniper exclaimed with outrage, “And yesterday? Yesterday was the Soldier! What kind of idiot wants to spend time with that mongrel!”

“Hey!” Spy snapped, his finger coming up to Sniper’s face. He immediately dialed back his defensiveness, realizing that he could be pushing too hard. “That is unfair to say of the Soldier.”

“Unfair? I’ll tell you what’s unfair. Having to remap the entire battlefront, because that wanker’s gone and destroyed all the good nests!” Sniper threw a hand up in exasperation.

“The other Sniper uses those nests too,” Spy noted, as he pulled out a cigarette, “You cannot fault him for destruction of property when his job is to kill the enemy. Property damage just comes along with it. Besides, it’s not like it would stay intact if the Heavy or the Demoman were to attack the enemy. Or if their counterparts attacked you.”

“Your point’s not lost on me, mate. But what I’m sayin’ is that that guy is reckless!” Sniper went on, “And if it weren’t for him, I’d have a whole map of nests to choose from! Now what do I gotta do? I gotta remap the whole area, just about every day.”

“We all do that,” Spy rolled his eyes as he took his first drink of the beer. It was something sweet and citrus flavored. “It’s called being proactive on the battlefield. You should look it up sometime.”

“And what does he do that’s so damn proactive?” the Sniper went on without missing a beat. He just could not stop ragging on Andrew, and it was starting to get on Spy’s nerves. “Man jumps around like an idiot, regardless of the setting! He just jumps around screaming about American stuff, and who the fuck actually does that? He goes around screaming on a battlefield. I’m pretty sure they don’t let military guys do that on a real battlefield. Those men woulda lost their heads a while back! Of course, here we have unlimited deaths, and he probably takes up the most.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Spy waved a hand dismissively.

“That guy’s a brainless idiot,” Sniper pointed at the side of Spy’s head, “He’s got no sense of responsibility to the team and no sense of self destruction. If not for respawn, he’d probably be falling apart by now. And right about now? I reckon the team’s all about sick of him.”

“Are you done?” Spy interrupted, hoping to force his hand.

“No I ain’t,” Sniper growled, “The end point of my rant is that you been shoving me off! And I don’t much care for it! If you wanna hang out with brainless idiots, that’s fine. But, you don’t gotta shove me off for it.”

Spy said nothing for a while, staring at the bar itself. His fingers were touching the neck of the beer, ice cold condensation rolling down with gravity. He could just feel the sensation of cold through the leather gloves, as he dared not take them off anywhere in public. He had never even shown his fingers to the Sniper.

“I don’t appreciate being shoved off for some looney, is all,” Sniper finished, his voice becoming quiet as he wound down. Winded from his rant, the outdoorsman fell silent and remained still with his eyes on his bottle.

Spy raised his head, looking over at Sniper, “We’ve been friends for how long now?”

“I was starting to doubt that,” his words were icy, dripping with passive aggressiveness, yet a small smile curved on the man’s lips.

“We have been living in isolation for many years now,” Spy went on, as if undisturbed, “And it will be like this for a long time in the future, I’m sure.”

“So? We’ve dealt with it before,” Sniper shrugged and took another swig of his bottle. He stomped it onto the countertop and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Why would anything be different now?”

“Because…because now I’m tired,” Spy sighed.

Sniper’s head perked up at that, “You ain’t quitting on us, are you? Because I don’t blame you if you are, but you’re kind of leaving your team out on a limb here.”

“I’m not leaving the team,” Spy rolled his eyes, “But, I _am_ tired. I’m tired of all of this…not the battling, but the socializing. We work with the same men, eat beside the same men, sleep b-” He caught himself up on that part of the line, and barely managed to clear his throat in such a manner that it seemed like something had disturbed his breathing passages. “The point is that we live in isolation. And there is no man on that base as isolated as I am.”

“You should get out more, meet Sheilas and such,” Sniper insisted, “You seem like the type of man who could woo any woman.

“Not quite,” Spy took a swig of the weak fruity drink.

“We went bowling last night,” Sniper added, “You could have come to that and we would have introduced you to our new friends. You should come next time! We’ll have a lot more fun!”

Spy rolled his eyes at that. Nobody else wanted him there. Frankly, he figured Scout and the others preferred it when he was not around. It was not unbeknownst to him that he was a loathed man in disguise.

“Maybe I’ll come next time,” Spy nodded slowly, “But I have a lot on my mind. And I…well, our commitment to Mann Co prevents us from simply leaving our work with Builder’s League United. So, I say we make the best with what we have.”

“Who said anything about leaving Mann Co? And the best you have is Soldier?” Sniper raised a questioning eyebrow at that, “Not Demo? Not the doc? Not even Heavy? I mean, at least they have smarts!”

“A real relationship outside of the vicinity of our reach,” Spy paused to gesture to the bar, as if it symbolized civilization, “Does not bode well for the man who does not tend to it. If I had a relationship so far from work, I would have to quit work to sustain that relationship. And as far as the Soldier goes, you don’t even know him, so why would you have such a strong opinion about him?”

Sniper snarled in anger at that. He was immediately frustrated with Spy as he took this as a personal attack. He turned squarely to him, leaned a little closer and lowered his voice.

“You wanna say that to my face, one more time?” Sniper growled.

Spy leaned away, putting up his hands defensively, “Apologies. I meant nothing about your relationship in that. Your relationship is your own, it’s just the way I would handle a relationship. I couldn’t bear to be away from somebody I cared so much about for so long.”

That barely pacified the Sniper, but it got him to sit up and turn back to his drink. Spy took a swig of his drink, just for the relief of it. Fuck losing his wits, he was fighting with a man he had known and admired for years about a relationship that he did not seem aware of.

“Any who, I don’t need to know much about that Soldier,” Sniper gestured at him with his drink.

“You don’t know the first thing about him,” Spy insisted, turning towards him. He was getting defensive again, and that did not bode well for him, so he turned back to his drink.

“I know he’s an idiot,” Sniper kept his voice low, “I know he has so much head damage he can’t think properly. He doesn’t listen to nobody – whether that’s by choice or he doesn’t have the attention span, I dunno. He’s got a mean streak like no man I’ve ever known, and a temper to boot.”

“You’re going off of what everybody sees and wants to see,” Spy argued.

“Explain it to me then,” Sniper requested. He had a genuinely curious tone, though Spy doubted he was actually interested in reasons that the Soldier was a likable guy.

“First, tell me, why are we friends?” Spy immediately regretted the question. He had long since decided that he did not want to know why the Sniper spent time with him. He was not sure he would like the answer.

“I dunno,” Sniper shrugged, “We get along fine, I suppose. You keep me outta trouble. I keep you outta…trouble.” He paused, looking at his empty bottle, before raising a hand to call for the barkeep.

Spy sighed with relief, seeing how vague that answer was. He doubted it was the truth. He was sure the Sniper had a much better answer than that for why they were friends. Of all people, Sniper should like the man who closely resembles his arch enemy the least.

“Soldier is the way he is on the battlefield because of what happened to him on the real battlefield,” Spy explained.

“What?” Sniper gave him a critical and disbelieving look.

Spy shook his head, “He was a marine in World War two.”

“Yea? I know that. Everybody knows that. He used to brag a lot. Until he finally shut up about it!” Sniper growled with irritation. The growling intimidated the bartender, who quickly moved away after placing a new beer in front of him. “I don’t need a lecture about the history of a man who used to brag about it.”

“Did you know he is counted as a hero?” Spy asked.

“Oh, what a bloody surprise,” Sniper rolled his eyes, “I could have guessed the man would brag about something like that!”

“He didn’t. He doesn’t,” Spy told him firmly, “Soldier has never once told us about the many times he dragged men off the battlefield. I only know about this because I have seen reports in his record. The man has personally saved enough people that he should have awards dangling off his coat for it.”

“Is there a point to this little speech?” Sniper asked, irritably.

“Soldier also never talks about when he has a problem,” Spy went on, without missing a beat, “Part of the soldier mentality is to remain in cohesion with the rest of the ranks, removing individual problems. He’s never once told the Medic or anybody else about his flashback and hallucinations.”

“I coulda guessed at it,” Sniper rolled his eyes, “Thinking on it, the bugger does tend to get a little crazy once in a while. Would easily be explained by flash backs and hallucinations.”

“And he’s told no one,” Spy added.

“What’s your point?” Sniper pressed, still irritable about this conversation.

“Did you know he is shy?” Spy pressed on.

Sniper burst into laughter at that, “Soldier? Shy? Second to Scout, there’s no one more boastful and loud mouthed as that guy!”

“When was the last time anybody heard him talk in a normal conversation?” Spy asked, “When was the last time, drinking times aside, that anybody had a chit chat with him where he was not drunk enough to forget himself?”

“I…well I rarely ever!” Sniper exclaimed.

“Nobody ever talks to Soldier,” Spy explained, “And Soldier being shy, he doesn’t approach people, unless he’s drunk. And the way people approach him decides the conversation.”

“So…what? You spied on him and now you’re buddies? Or what?” Sniper asked, irritably.

“I noted behavior that was counter to what we assumed of the Soldier,” Spy explained, “And instead of writing him off, I’ve given him a chance.”

“Doesn’t he hate France or somethin’ like that? He is all about America and stuff. Doesn’t he shout shit about other countries?” Sniper’s tone was loaded with accusation.

Spy frowned at that, “No. I have heard the RED Soldier say things about Frenchmen, Germans and even Australians. But the BLU Soldier doesn’t say things about foreigners, only things about America. He’s just a proud American.”

“They’re practically the same person though,” Sniper chuckled.

“Far from it,” Spy argued, waving his hand with a flick of the wrist, “Our Soldier may seem like an idiot, but that’s just a mix of post-traumatic stress disorder, hallucinations, a history of concussions, and a lack of social graces. The man may seem mean on the battlefield, but he’s a good man with a big heart.”

Sniper laughed again, “Yea, you go be friends with him. I’ll opt out.”

“Have you ever been on the battlefield near him?” Spy asked, with a small shrug.

“Why would I? I shoot from nests, you know that. The bugger’s always out jumping around the buildings!” he answered.

“When you’re down and wounded where he can see you, you’ll know what I mean,” Spy explained simply. He needed to end this conversation, as it had already gone on for too long. Any longer and he was risking his reputation, as Sniper might start talking about this to the others.

“Yea sure,” Sniper chuckled, “I’ll think on that.”

“You do that,” Spy said, pausing for a deep swig.

“Anyways,” Sniper switched to a new topic. Spy could not be happier for that. “I gotta ask you, if you would like to meet my girlfriend.”

“You gotta ask me?” Spy chuckled at him, “Where is this coming from? Whatever happened to hiding her from the Spy?”

He barely refrained from laughing much louder. Sniper was not too secretive a man. He was not very good at keeping anything to himself. However, it was well known to the Spy that the man preferred to keep things quiet, especially from his own friend, the friendly Spy.

Such things hidden within his camper that Spy knew about, Sniper did not know that he knew about. Sniper also did not know that Spy knew his morning shower routine, where he used the bedroom assigned to him for getting dressed. Never mind the showers, he walked all the way back to his room in a towel, never disturbed by a single mercenary in decades. Sniper also did not know that a certain Spy would watch the route he always took just to get a glimpse of him, from time to time.

The last thing that Spy did not really press on – that was mostly because he did not care – was Sniper’s girlfriend. All of the information that Spy had on her was willingly given. If he was a bit more proactive in his work, he would have been prodding for the information. But, some selfish part of him did not want to know anything about her, or else he would have to acknowledge her existence. And now he would have to acknowledge her existence to her face.

“Well,” Sniper took a deep breath, “Of all the men I work with, I think you and I are the closest.” There was a long pause there, where he was sure that Sniper was gauging his reaction. “And Melissa wants to meet my best friend.”

“Right,” Spy could barely keep the spite out of his tone. He did not want to meet her, not now and not ever.

“But she says I can’t just trick you into my truck and drive you over to see her, I gotta ask you,” Sniper chuckled.

When Spy looked over, he noticed that Sniper had a gleam in his eye. It was the kind of cheerful gleam that he got when he was talking about his girlfriend. That was something Spy could never do, put that glint of happiness in his tired old eyes.

“Says you’ll be mad if you get tricked into meeting her, instead of being in control of the situation,” Sniper chuckled.

Spy raised an eyebrow at that. He wondered how much Sniper had told her about him. Surely he had not blabbed everything he knew about him. If he had, then he might have to meet her, just to slice her neck for the right reasons.

“Well Spy?” Sniper pressed.

“Well what?” Spy snapped, irritated at the idea of Sniper having blabbed everything about him.

“You wanna meet my Sheila? Or should I call it off?” Sniper asked.

Spy opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He should not try to ignore the fact that he was moving on. At this point, he and Sniper were just friends into eternity, and even his daydreaming would stop. In fact, it had stopped, being replaced by ideas and thoughts about the Soldier.

“We could make it a double date,” Sniper smirked at the Spy, “You can introduce me to your lady friend. And Melissa wouldn’t mind meeting her either.”

“I do not have a lady friend,” Spy said, curtly.

“Oh…” Sniper frowned. Spy was watching him from the corner of his eye as he looked down at what was still his first drink. “Didn’t work out then?” he pressed. Spy still gave him nothing to work with. “Tell you what then, we’ll just go you and I.”

“I could bring Soldier along,” Spy suddenly stated. Why did he need to put his foot in his mouth so fast?

“Soldier?” Sniper sounded flabberghasted.

“If it’s no trouble though,” Spy shrugged it off, “It was merely a suggestion. Since you offered to have her meet somebody else as well. And your interest in my life is apparent, maybe you need to meet the Soldier as well.”

“Why would I _want_ to meet the Soldier?” Sniper’s voice raised in pitch.

“Come on, Sniper,” Spy pressed, “Give it a go. Aren’t you bushmen all about trying things out before you diss them?”

“That’s about things for survival. Getting over your taste for calamari in order to eat something a little less fancy,” the Australian’s voice grew a little more in pitch as he grew a little more desperate to get his point across.

“You seem to be the one holding fancy standards here,” Spy offered.

Sniper sighed begrudgingly, “Alright. Bring the piker along.”

“I would appreciate you not bad mouthing my friend in front of him, mon ami,” he requested, turning to Sniper a bit more, “Or in front of your lady friend.”

“Fine, I won’t,” Sniper promised, “So long as you can keep him from misbehaving, we’ll be fine.”

“That won’t be a problem at all,” Spy nodded. Andrew could be awkward, but that did not mean he could not be reeled in. “So when is this date going to be?” Spy asked, turning back to his drink for another sip.

“Not this Saturday, but the next,” Sniper explained, “I’ll be driving over to her house. I could give you a ride.” Spy noted the expression on Sniper’s face and read it to mean regret at having offered to drive Soldier.

“I have a car,” Spy offered, “I can simply follow you there. Or simply tell me where we’re meeting.”

“Ah. Well, there’s an Italian place two cities over. Melissa likes it and you might too. Dunno how Soldier would fit in there though,” Sniper shook his head, “It’s an easy place to find though. Gucci’s Italian Bistro is the name of it.”

“I can find it,” Spy nodded.

“Alright then,” Sniper threw back the last of his drink and slammed it on the bar.  
“Our conversation is over then?” Spy eyed him thoughtfully.

“Yup…or how do you say it? Oui? Merci or something?” Sniper wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Oui, that’s the one you’re looking for,” Spy took a last drink of the fruity alcohol.

He did not care for it, so he left the last of it on the counter. He reached into his pocket and quickly pulled out some bills, leaving a gracious tip for the barkeep. The man knew to keep his mouth shut and serve them well, and he would always get those nice tips from both men. It paid to be paid mercenaries for hire, for whom most things were already paid for. Not that it was a huge salary, but having bills already taken care of, and most meals already bought and put in the fridge, meant that they had plenty of extra to spend.

“I wanna get back to base,” Sniper pulled his aviators on and his hat brim low, “Demo’s supposed to be firing up the barbeque, and Engie’s too distracted to make sure he doesn’t blow our base up.”

“The man’s a professional with demolition, he should be fine with a barbeque,” Spy argued.

“If you say so, mate,” Sniper headed towards his camper truck, swinging his keys on a finger, “Tell the boyfriend I said hi!”

Spy smirked at the tease but did not dignify it. He was not ready to tell Sniper the truth about Soldier. He would just let the teasing go for now and find a better time to tell him – if he ever got around to telling him about his gross attraction to strong men.

 

Back at the base, everybody was up in a huff. Usually the Demoman was at the makeshift bar, but as Sniper had said, the man was greasing up the barbeque. This left the others to fend for themselves in terms of drinks. They were not privy to his stash either, so some of them had to make do with whatever they scrounged, regardless as to whether they liked it or not.

When Spy arrived to the party, everybody was being loud and raucous as usual. He slipped into the shade of the base, leaning up against the wall, where he could view the whole crowd. He was keen to their usual habits, eyeing each man and studying him thoughtfully, looking for any changes in behavior.

“What’s going on?” he was yanked out of his concentration by the young Boston voice.

He did not let his surprise show though, as he merely shifted his eyes and his brow. He gave the youth a questioning look, before returning his eyes to the crowd. He did not know what the boy would want this time. Surely there was not another thing he had started that pissed the kid off.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” Scout poked him in the arm.

He turned his head this time, with a roll of his eyes, “What do you want Scout?”

“I just asked you! What’s going on? What’s up?” Scout had a jesting tone, with a crooked smile.

Spy was not sure what the boy was going for. He seemed like he was genuinely trying to start small talk. That could not be right though, because Spy was considered the most unlikable teammate on BLU, and was definitely number one on Scout’s list.

He glanced upwards, “The sky.”

Scout laughed sarcastically, “Very funny.” He glanced sideways at somebody, placing his hands on his hips. He turned his attention back to Spy, “Look, I just wanna make some friendly talk. Alright? No harm? We don’t talk much, and since…you know…we work together and all, we should get to know each other better.”

Spy waited for the right moment, when Scout looked down at his moving hands, to glance the way he had looked. It looked like he had glanced at the three men at the barbeque, the Sniper, the Demoman and the Soldier. He was not sure which one was most likely, though he had a hunch that this had something to do with the Soldier. Of course, his training kicked in and told him not to assume the bias was right, as he may have just wanted it to be Soldier so he could go confront him later about it.

“Alright Scout,” Spy pushed off of the wall and turned to face him. He placed his hands behind his back and gave the boy a smile, “Let’s talk.” 

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew glanced back at the Scout, who was giving him the questioning raise of an eyebrow. He gave the boy a quick thumb up and a smile of encouragement. Maybe, just maybe, Scout and Spy could be on good terms.

He had thought of the idea when talking to the Scout. The boy had admitted to feeling alone much of the time around the others. He was always prattling on because he felt like nobody was listening anyways. Anything to get attention, and it made sense.

Andrew felt great that he could be a friend to Scout – and definitely with previous thoughts put aside – but he thought Scout should have more than one. Spy was not particularly the kind to get along with easily, but if Scout could befriend Spy, or at least try to, then he could probably befriend anybody. If nothing else, perhaps the boy would come back and talk to the Demoman.

Now that he thought about it though, he should have talked to the Spy before. Being friends with the Spy did not mean he automatically knew what Andrew’s intentions were. He could think it was meant as a hostile attack, and then they would have some sort of misunderstanding.

He looked over at the two talking and decided against doing anything. Spy had turned towards the boy, with that thoughtful look on his face that said he was listening. His hands were even behind his back, which seemed to be a pose of elegance. Before he could get caught admiring Spy though, Andrew jerked his attention back to the grill.

“I’m saying that you can’t barbeque without some whiskey!” the Demoman roared.

Sniper gave a loud belly laugh, slapping Demo on the shoulder, “You’re so fucking crazy, mate!”

“It’s not crazy! Here I’ll show ya,” Demo grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey from below the barbeque.

Dark eyes called his attention from the other side of the barbeque. Andrew looked up to meet the Sniper’s gaze. The man did not look particularly happy or grumpy at meeting Andrew’s eyes. Usually the man hid behind a pair of aviators that hid his expressions in most lighting. In this lighting, and without the aviators on, Andrew felt like he was being crushed beneath the weight of his own guilt.

“Watch this lads!” in one smooth motion the Demoman pulled open the bottle and did a weird trick that Andrew could not even follow. The flames roared, rising up to engulf the meat before settling back down.

“We’re gonna need to buy Engie a new barbeque by the end of this,” Sniper chuckled, putting on a small grin.

“I’m not a bad cook!” Demoman exclaimed.

“No one said you’re a bad cook,” Sniper argued defensively.

“We’re gonna need to get Engie a new barbeque,” Andrew put in.

He received an immediate glance that looked like gratitude. He responded with his own smile. He just wished his face did not feel so hot while he was smiling.

Sniper turned back to the Demoman, “See? Nobody said it.”

“I assure you lads,” the Scotsman turned the meat over, “You’ll be drooling over this stuff once you get a taste of it.”

“I’m already droolin’ mate. I’m practically leaning over to get a better whiff,” Sniper laughed.

Demoman laughed with him, tossing his fist at his shoulder playfully. The two men were laughing and jeering at each other, until they finally pulled the meat off. Andrew chuckled a little bit, but did not feel quite included in the comradery the two had. His doubts were not in the Demoman, as the friendly drunk was something of a pal to Andrew from time to time, and he was the reason Andrew was hanging around the barbeque. But, there was something about Sniper that seemed a bit off-putting, like maybe he did not like the BLU Soldier.

“Hey Soldier, go take this over to the table. Sniper, make sure he don’t trip over himself or nothing!” Demo laughed.

Andrew and Sniper both eyed Demo curiously before exchanging a look. Andrew knew Demo to be quick like a whip, but did he maybe sense some animosity that needed to be worked out through friendly conversation. If he was trying to do that for Andrew by creating a situation in which he was beside the Sniper alone, then he was afraid that he was going to let the man down.

“Let’s go, Soldier,” Sniper interrupted his thoughts.

Andrew was surprised, but compliant as he took the large tray of meat to the table. Sniper followed at his side, shortening his stride to fit Andrew’s own step. Going off the Demo’s warning, Andrew was careful not to spill the meat, or trip on anything. By the time they reached the table, his face was red with concentration, he could feel the heat settling in his cheeks at a low boil.

“So you and Spy hang out lately, eh?” Sniper asked.

If Andrew’s face was not yet red, he was certain that it was red now. The reminder of Sniper’s friendship with the Spy reminded him that the two of them talked. If Spy had an interest in the Soldier, a noticeably nonsensical choice for such a suave man, it was likely that the Sniper already knew about it.

“Erm…yes…we have,” Andrew nodded carefully. He kept his eyes carefully away from the Sniper’s though. He could not handle making eye contact at the moment.

“I get it,” he noticed Sniper shrugging, “Spy’s gotta have more friends than me.” He chuckled at that. “But I don’t know you.”

Andrew looked at his boots and shifted nervously. What should he do? Should he protest? Should he try to get to know him? He glanced over at Spy, but the man’s back was facing them. He wondered what the Spy would do in this situation. Of course, that would not help, Andrew could not think like a smart Spy, not being the team idiot.

“I don’t have any intentions of you and I hanging out,” Sniper stated, “I just wanna be able to invite my friend out to bowl once in a while. That alright with you?”

A spark lit through Andrew, making him jolt with surprise. His head reared up to meet the Sniper’s eyes. He blinked a couple of times and then nodded. Why would the Sniper need that kind of permission? Had he not heard Andrew try to invite him for drinks?

“Nothing…personal, mate,” Sniper cleared his throat, “You and I aren’t friends. But you and Spy are friends. I’ll respect that well enough.”

“I want Spy to be happy,” Andrew insisted, though perhaps his tone was a bit too firm, almost like a commander.

“So do I,” Sniper hesitated, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, “I also want my girlfriend happy too.”

Andrew’s head dropped a bit at that. A girlfriend? Did he ever hear anything about that? He was not sure if he had. He felt bad if he had heard about Sniper having a girl off to the side, as he could not rightly remember.

“So I’m letting her meet Spy,” Sniper explained, “She’s been wanting to meet my best pal. And…well…Spy wants you to come along with.”

Fear clutched Andrew from the inside. It had a tight grasp on his chest, making his heart try to beat its way out of a chokehold. He felt like he was fighting an unseen force. All the while, he fought to keep his vision clear, while the edges began fading and blurring. Panic began to set in while he tried to shake this unwitting response.

He could hear the Sniper talking, but he could not tell what he was saying. His ears would not work properly anymore, or perhaps it was his stupid brain. He tried to tell his brain to get its shit together so he could come back to the present situation. He was struggling with that though, trying to breathe normally, trying to slow down his brain, trying to focus on what Sniper was saying.

“So, Spy’s probably going to-oh, here he comes,” Sniper’s voice finally came through.

Andrew took a deep breath, blinking and looking for Spy. As promised the man strode up to them. He looked unaware of what the state of their conversation was. That left Andrew in a bit more distress, since he could not simply ask the Spy what it was that Sniper had said. But maybe the man knew Sniper well enough to have an idea of what he had been talking about.

“Hey Spy! I was just tellin’ your pal here about dinner with my girl,” Sniper nodded to Spy in greeting.

Andrew could still feel the numb fuzziness in his ears, like a threat that they would go deaf to what was going on again. He was not sure he could handle it again. It was not like the panic had subsided, he just managed to overcome some of the symptoms of it.

“Ah. So, what do you think, Soldier?” Spy asked, turning to address him, “Dinner with Sniper and his girlfriend next Saturday?”

He did not even realize his mouth was moving at first. He just sort of said something. What did he say though? It seemed to be a passable response, as the Sniper chuckled and turned, leaning back against the table. He was looking over at the Demoman, who was showing Pyro, Scout and Medic his little trick on the barbeque.

“Watch out! He’ll burn your eyebrows off!” Sniper called to them. Scout bounced around wildly at hearing that, not wanting to get caught on fire by the kick back of flames.

Spy turned to watch as well, but his hand slipped around to Andrew’s back. The hand rested just above his back brace, where he could feel it rub against him. He was not sure why the warmth meant so much to him, but he felt relaxed at that moment, like all of the world melted into something happy.

“I’m gonna make sure he don’t burn down that barbeque,” Sniper dismissed himself.

“Very well then,” Spy responded, never leaving Andrew’s side.

Andrew closed his eyes for a minute. The world felt much clearer and much calmer now. He was not sure if it was the way Spy was rubbing his back or if it was just his presence that was calming.

“You feeling alright, Soldier?” Spy turned to face him.

Andrew gave him a sheepish smile, “I’m not sure what I said.”

“You seemed excited about joining Sniper and Melissa for dinner,” Spy explained, “Sniper invited me to go. I wanted to take you with me, if that is alright. I don’t want you to feel any pressure about it, so you don’t have to if you do not wish to.”

“You want me to go with you?” Andrew felt a wave of bashfulness wash away all memory of the panic from before.

“Yes I do,” Spy nodded.

Andrew gave him the biggest smile he could muster, “I would proudly go with you!”

A sudden blast shook Andrew’s mind and his hands searched for a weapon. There was no revolver, no pistol, no shotgun, no rifle, not even a bazooka on his person. He had nothing with which to defend himself and in his panic lost his sense of direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Friends. Sometimes you push and pull your friends around to get what you want. Spy is uber brat, so he does a lot of pushing and pulling. It does not help that he is already a very distant and secretive friend.


	14. Spy's Little Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew gets to see where Spy sleeps at night. Spy feels like a teenage boy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: No explicit. And nothing happens between them anyways.

Spy could not find it in his heart to scorn the BLU Soldier like he used to. Andrew had become endearing in every way to him, and he was not even sure why. Every day he met with Andrew right off the battlefield, help him with his back, have a nice chat and wait for him to either fall asleep on the couch or sheepishly head off to his own room. Then he headed off to meet with the Sniper, who typically waited for him in the recreation area.

Of course, that did not mean that others did not find reason or heart to scorn him. Even the Scout would still scorn or even taunt his teammate. Sometimes Spy figured it was just the kid’s way of trying to get his attention, a child wanting a daddy figure in his life. The rest were just assholes through and through.

Lately though, he started to notice that the Soldier was doing things a bit differently. He still took the battle head on, but with new approaches. He even teamed up with the Medic from time to time, as the doctor kept him alive through an assault on the RED Heavy and Medic team. But the man seemed to cause a bit more trouble on the battlefield lately than not.

Spy came into the respawn at the end of the match to find Scout shouting and flinging his arms around wildly. He was about to ignore it, when he saw that the younger man was standing over Andrew. The man was seated on a bench, shoulders hunched over and his elbows on his knees.

Spy walked over and motioned for Scout to stop. He turned to the Soldier, “Andrew, you should go relax.” That was one of the signals, a reminder that Spy was open for giving a back massage, without the team knowing what they were doing.

“Why don’t you talk some sense into this knucklehead?” Scout asked, flinging his hand through the air, “That was bull crap!”

Medic appeared through respawn and quickly joined the Scout, “Why would you jump away over the buildings when I am right there with the uber! I was popping the uber!”

“Maybe Medic need just focus on Heavy,” the Heavy Weapon’s expert cut in.

Spy glanced down to see that look of panic on Andrew’s face. It was not a typical look of panic, in fact, Spy had thought it was his zoning out face. He looked like he was not even listening, which was probably fact. Andrew did not have to tell him though, as he had figured out on his own that this expression was linked to his moments of panic attacks and freak outs. It was the same expression that had been drawing across his face at the restaurant he took him to.

“Enough,” Spy spoke loudly but calmly, “This was just another shit day. Go back to dealing with your own problems. Scout, you were running right out in front of sentries today! Medic, I didn’t see you pop one uber out there. Not even once did you check Scout’s health. And Heavy?” He looked the man up and down, a bit intimidated. The man was quiet and not the type to anger easily, but he was better off not upsetting the mountain of a man. “Do whatever it is you do.”

He lit a cigarette as he turned away from them. He waited until he heard some locker doors moving and feet shuffling. He moved towards his own locker, pretending to busy himself with organizing his things. Out of the corner of his eye, he was watching Andrew to see if he was recovering.

After a little while, Andrew meandered off, sauntering into the hallways. He would probably go to his room where he left his ointment, knowing that Spy had to unlock his smoking room first. It was agreed upon that Andrew needed to wait a while so people would not get suspicious of their meetings, lest it seemed like too close a routine they were making of their meetups after work.

 

He was settled on the armchair, waiting for the man to arrive when the door opened. That seemed off, because Andrew had taken to a habit of gently knocking on the door. He had to be told several times to do it this way because the man almost broke the door once while it was locked, had come close to attracting attention from battering it, and simply needed to cue Spy to his presence a little early. He did not like being caught off guard, even if he was ready for somebody to arrive.

“Hey you got a minute?” Scout’s voice came from the door.

“Oh…Scout? Go to hell,” Spy kept his back mostly turned to the door and his attention on the magazine. Of course he had the corner of his eye on the door though, no fool Spy would ever be caught leaving his back unguarded.

“Say uh…you been, spending quite a bit of time with Soldier lately,” the boy proceeded into the room.

Spy slammed the magazine down and rose quickly to his feet as he turned to the youth. The younger man was not take off guard by this reaction, but readied himself for a fight. He looked like he was ready for one anyways, with his shotgun still holstered to his back.

“I figured you were the guy to talk to,” Scout went on without missing a beat.

Spy took a mental step backwards. He cooled himself down and relaxed out of his defensive stance. The American relaxed his own composure, waiting quietly for Spy to respond.

“What exactly do you want, Scout?” he asked, begrudgingly.

“I wanna know if he’s okay,” Scout dropped his arms and put his hands on his hips.

“You want to know if he is okay?” Spy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yea, I mean…he’s not seeing the doctor or anything…but lately he seems…well…I guess he seems a little distracted out there,” Scout explained.

“I see,” Spy nodded slowly, “You care for him very much?” He put his hands behind his back as he straightened his posture.

“N-no…well…yea…maybe…not in the gay way, I mean,” Scout backpedaled so quickly his face was turning red. It gave Spy a little glee to see the boy squirm. “Listen, I’m just looking out for the guy, okay? He needs friends. And I hope that’s what this is…with you.”

“Oh yes, he is my friend,” Spy replied, with a polite tone of voice, “And rest assured I do what I can.”

“Ah…good!” Scout wiped a hand across his forehead in a dramatic gesture of relief, “I’m glad to hear that…uh…he’s gonna be okay. I’m just a little worried, that’s all. I’m not really that mad about the match, he’s just…I dunno.”

“Scout, it’s alright to be concerned,” Spy took a cautious step towards him, “He is a father figure to you, yes? He is someone that you look up to. And right now you are concerned about his wellbeing.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Scout kicked his foot and rubbed his neck, “I didn’t mean to be rude or nothing, Spy. I just…gotta know. You know?”

“Next time, if you don’t want to be rude, then simply knock. Okay?” Spy raised his eyebrows for emphasis.

“Ah…um…oui,” the kid nodded, before he headed out of the room.

That relief came just in time as the Soldier stepped in a few moments later. He had a downtrodden look about him, even from beneath the helmet. His hands were clenched with frustration, one of which was squishing the tube of ointment.

“Sol-” he cut himself off abruptly, “Andrew? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Andrew announced, in that rough robotic tone he had when he was forcing speech, “It has been a rough day.”

“Come over here, and I’ll help you,” Spy motioned to the couch. Andrew did not hesitate to comply, and it proved obvious that he really wanted a back rub.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew took a deep breath and let it out in a relaxed sigh. He was glad that he did not doze off this time. He often fell asleep and that left Spy alone with his sleeping body. Not that he did not trust the man, but he felt bad about falling asleep without so much as thanking him beforehand.

He glanced over his shoulder at the other man, who was fetching himself a new cigarette. He pondered the possibility of faking sleep, just so he could stay around a little while longer, and not head off to his room for a nap. It was not so interesting to nap in his room – though he did like the mattress better than couch cushions – because he would just be all alone there.

From here on the couch, he could watch Spy pour himself a glass of scotch. He could admire the way his tucked in shirt framed his hips, hiding what might be a six pack or a belly pudge for all he knew. His eyes could roll over those bare forearms and hands, bare of gloves and the sleeves that were rolled up to the elbow. He wanted to pull them off and see the shoulders.

Andrew was not big on ideas, at least not good ideas. But when he struck up a good idea, he would see it through. So when he got a plan to wrestle the Spy out of his shirt, he immediately sat up.

Hearing noise, Spy turned to look at him, “Ah, you’re awake then?”

“Come here,” Andrew patted the couch cushion next to him.

Spy gave him a questioning look, but complied, “Did you want a drink?”

He sat himself down with the gentlest movements. One leg went immediately up, perching his ankle on is knee. One arm went up on the back of the couch, but Andrew knew that by Spy’s planning his arm would end up on his shoulders.

“Lay down,” he motioned to the couch.

“What?” Spy gave him a confused look. It was a very forceful look so that even with a mask on, Andrew could not mistake it otherwise.

“It’s my turn to help you with stress,” Andrew smiled, gently poking the Spy in the chest.

“No, that’s fine,” Spy gestured dismissively, “I don’t need you to. I’m fine.”

“But I want to!” Andrew exclaimed, hoping the other man would see how pressing this matter was to him.

“I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” Spy gave him a look, but he was not sure what it meant.

“It is a good idea! You’ve been giving me massages for at least a week now, I should pay you back!” Andrew chuckled at the unintended pun.

“Eh…it’s not like I expected anything in return, I assure you,” Spy gestured dismissively again.

“I want to rub your shoulders,” Andrew spoke directly with a commanding voice.

Spy hesitated, his gaze jumping between Andrew’s eyes. Finally he rose to his feet, “Not in here.” He scooped up his gloves and suit jacket. “In the next room. It is more private there.”

“The next room?” Andrew stumbled about, trying to gather his own things. All along the Spy had a more private room to go to, and he had been shirtless every day in the smoking room?

“This way,” Spy strode over to the mantle, lifting a book slightly. The wall reacted, moving to the side as if by magic.

“That is…tricky,” Andrew looked around the wall, confused as to how it actually moved out of the way.

The wall had opened up to a small alcove, where there was a small wooden door. The door looked ornate and pretty, and Spy held a key to match. He pressed it into the keyhole and proceeded into this room. Andrew quickly followed him, not wanting to be left behind. He was glad, as the wall seemed to close of its own accord.

“Here we are,” Spy introduced him to the personal space.

It was not very big, but it was spacious enough. Most of the area was taken up by a large bed, leaving little room for a small wardrobe, a foot locker and a small vanity. It all made sense to Andrew, as he deduced that he kept his nice shoes in the foot locker, his suits all nice and pressed and hanging in the wardrobe, with socks in the drawers, and everything he needed to make himself look _presentable_ in that vanity’s drawer. He noted a very narrow door off to the right, hiding in the corner, just out of sight of the main door’s view, like a secret passage to something.

Spy checked something at the door before he turned to Andrew and motioned to the bed. Andrew stepped towards the bed, just now realizing how intimate this setting felt. If he was getting lucky, it would be nice on a bed that looked as nice as that – and when he sat down he was assured that this was not a standard issue Mann Co mattress either.

Spy sat awkwardly next to him. He was rigid in his movements, not as graceful as he was before. The awkward and tense air about him made Andrew want to giggle. He was not the only one who was nervous, and for once, he felt less nervous than spy because of that thought.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“How would you like me?” Spy asked, with a casual tone. He was putting so much emphasis on not letting his voice shake that he almost forgot about his twitching bare fingers.

“Take your shirt off,” the grinning Soldier just stared at him with bright eyes.

Spy felt a pinch of regret – just a pinch mind you – as Andrew was brimming with the most uncharacteristic glee Spy had ever seen in a grown man. He seemed like a child, in the body of a grown man with military tattoos and the ability to snap a man’s neck. He trusted Andrew with his neck, but he was not sure he was fully prepared for taking his shirt off in front of him.

He did not bother with the balaclava. In this room, he was secure, having no signs of this room’s existence to the world, and no window of which to speak. He had barred all chances of seeing him in here, so he could rest without his balaclava on. But some habits around people died much harder than he would have liked.

Andrew reached over to help him with his sleeves, sliding the button up off to reveal the under shirt. He quickly slipped that over his head, but before he could get his head back out he felt a hand on his belly. He gave an undignified squeak and flinched as the warm skin tickled him. He quickly pulled the shirt off and covered his front with it.

He looked at Andrew, who shied away bashfully, “Didn’t know a man so scrawny could have a six pack like that!”

Spy blinked at him, “Scrawny? I’m scrawny?”

Andrew snickered, his cheeks growing a bit redder, “Well, relative to the men we are around every day? You’re the scrawniest. Maybe not as scrawny as the RED Spy.” He detected something coy in the way Andrew was talking, and that sideways smirk.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, he did not suppress the smile though, “You are trying my patience on purpose, aren’t you?”

He carefully removed his undershirt from his arms, leaving his torso bare. He looked at Andrew, who was giving him a dramatic shrug. He man’s eyes meandered though, taking Spy in like a sideshow attraction.

“And?” Spy pressed, hoping to move things along.

A hand ran up his forearm as Andrew shifted across the bed, situating himself behind him. He half expected him to mimic what Spy did with him every day, to tell him to lay down on his front. Instead Andrew’s hands went up his arms to his shoulders, where they began to work on the muscles there.

Now, Spy had been trained in torture tactics. He had gone through torture from teachers, friends and foes many times. From harsh mental tactics that messed with his psychology, to brutal beatings that led to excruciating injuries. But the moment Andrew started working on his shoulder, he came undone under the pain.

He quickly turned his face away as he felt the expression change. He winced and even held his breath against noise, as the fingers worked on what were tense and painful muscles. He never knew he had so much tension and pain worked up in his shoulders. He could only imagine how bad his back must be.

“Stop tensing,” Andrew commanded.

Spy tried to obey, but found it hard not to react to those fingers. His body just kept tensing up. He was also holding his breath every time he felt himself try to squeak, and that did not help the situation. Still, Andrew did his best trying to work the tension out of his shoulders.

“You are not relaxing,” Andrew finally quit, dropping his hands down Spy’s arms until they touched his elbows.

Spy breathed carefully for a while, before he turned his head to look at the man. He saw a look of sadness, confusion and uncertainty on Andrew’s face. For a moment, he wanted to kiss the sadness and uncertainty off of his face.

“What is wrong, Jacques?” Andrew asked. He was surprised both by the question and the name used.

He met Andrew’s gaze for a few moments before dropping it to the bed. He suddenly felt disappointed in himself. He felt like he was letting Andrew down, even though that was not his intention. He brought the man into his own private room, a place that nobody was ever allowed to go into. It was his own private domain that nobody had ever seen the inside of, not even the other Spy, who had frequented the others’ rooms to gather information on them.

“Nothing is wrong,” he gave the man an assuring smile, trying to meet his gaze squarely.

“You’re lying to me,” Andrew’s voice was firm and decisive. He had no doubt in himself or his accusation.

“I’m…I guess I’m…” Spy took a few moments to collect his thoughts. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to find some time somewhere in all of this to think through his options. “I’ve not been with someone in a while,” he explained, trying to use simple terms and slow speech, “It has been…many many years…and I’m just…” He bit his lower lip with uncertainty.

“It’s alright, Jacques,” Andrew smiled at him, “We’ll take this slow.”

Spy smiled at him in gratitude but then shook his head, “No…it’s just everything. Everything is a bit much to me.”

He paused, looking Andrew over. The reality of the situation hit him way too hard. A very handsome, shirtless man was offering him a shoulder massage in his own private domain, where he could be as naked and offensive as he wanted to be. Here he could be quite relaxed, but he was not relaxing because training told him that this was a dangerous situation. And here he was, half naked, with an attractive man seated on his bed.

If that did not make things move fast then he would have to change the pace, “I am just not used to attention.” It was a partial fib. He was not used to it, but he really wanted to move Andrew’s attention to an angle where he could not see Spy’s growing shame. “Just…I’ll relax after a while. I’m just unused to it. That’s all.”

Andrew accepted the excuse and went right back to his shoulders. This time he rotated, moving between Spy’s back and shoulders. The man had big burly fingers, but he knew what he wanted them to do and where. He poked and prodded at Spy’s body with naïve curiosity, and when he got even the slightest response, he moved with it. After studying how Andrew learned, Spy quickly figured out how to get him to poke and rub the right spaces on his back and shoulders.

At one point he finally took a deep breath and laid out on his front on the bed. He just felt like collapsing and taking a nap. He wanted to groan out all the apprehension and paranoia of his life and work, all just to let himself sleep it away.

Nearby, the bed huffed beneath Andrew’s weight, as he plopped down beside him. He laid out on his back, situating himself next to Spy. When Spy glanced over, he found Andrew staring at the ceiling, with a self-satisfied smug look on his face.

He could not help but chuckle at seeing that face, before burying himself in the pillow his arm wrapped around. He might enjoy their time together a bit better in the future if this was how it was going to be.

“You are relaxed now?” Andrew asked, stirring the silence.

Spy nodded, though he knew Andrew was not looking at him, “You have a way with learning how to use your hands.”

He glanced over to see Andrew smirk, “I am good with my hands. They love to learn how to work.”

“I enjoyed it immensely,” Spy admitted.

Andrew’s smile got even bigger, if that was possible, “I did too.”

“I can give you another if you like,” Spy offered.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Andrew asked, with a look of uncertainty.

“Well, I was supposed to be there an hour ago,” Spy glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was long past the time he was supposed to be in the recreational room, but by this point, Sniper would have guessed that he would not be coming.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew’s voice turned meek and sheepish.

“Don’t be,” Spy said, dismissively, “I enjoyed it. It was more a favor to me.”

“I wanted to feel you,” Andrew blurted.

Spy raised an eyebrow at him, but he had turned his face away. He could still see a bit of red on the side of his cheek though. That jawline could give any hint of bashfulness away.

“Do you want to rephrase that?” Spy asked, giving him a chance to backpedal.

“I wanted to touch your shoulders,” Andrew said, not really taking up the offer of removing what he had said, “I wanted to see you underneath…all of that. Your shoulders aren’t so thick and square as your suit claims.”

“Oui, suit jackets tend to have padding that gives that kind of square look,” Spy said. He looked over at Andrew’s bashful face and blushed, “Go on.”

“You’re…small…and soft,” Andrew’s bashfulness grew in his voice, as he could barely speak now.

“Like a woman?” Spy offered.

He had been compared to a woman once before, but only that one time, by a man who liked women more than men. Being reminded of such an abusive relationship made Spy cringe inwardly. He started to loath the feeling, wishing he could yell at the Soldier without feeling regret for it later.

“No!” Andrew blurted, “You are not a woman! You are nothing like a woman! You are soft and small! But you are not beautiful or curvy!”

Both of his eyebrows shot up in confusion. Andrew finally slowed himself down, lowering himself out of that military-esque rant. He took a breath, slowly rethinking his words.

“Jacques, I do not compare you to a woman,” Andrew said, much more calmly this time, “Because you are not a woman. You are a man. You are poised, reserved, cunning, smart, diligent, patient, wise, quiet, strong, quick in the head, and handsome…”

He looked over to see the man’s face turning quite red. He stared down the end of the bed, as if he would glare the foot end into submission. The muscles in his face were taut beneath reddened skin.

“Your words are very thoughtful, mon ami,” Spy reached over to lay a hand on Andrew’s chest.

It was Andrew’s turn to flinch, but he did not pull away from the hand. He instead put a hand over the smaller one. He turned his face and eyes to Spy, meeting his gaze with a slightly uncertain one.

“I too think of you this way,” Spy said, “In layman’s terms, I find you very attractive. And…and I think you love me.”

Spy shook himself. Wait a minute, he thought. That was supposed to come out a different way. He felt his face heat up as he realized what he said. He had not meant it the way it came out. He was supposed to say ‘I love you.’

“Yea…um…” Andrew cleared his throat, “I uh…I think I do, Jacques.”

Spy chuckled, burying his face in the pillow. He could not believe his bumbling over the words. He felt like such a fool to have made such a bumble, and not with any reason to do so.

“I uh…I think you’re falling in love with me too,” Andrew said, with a sheepish tone.

Spy finally pulled his face out of the pillow, chuckling all the while, “Oui, yes. Maybe I do.”

He smiled up at Andrew, who burst into laughter. They laid there for a while, just laughing over their awkwardness. What a crazy thing it seemed to Spy, that two men over a hundred years in age now were acting like hormonal teenagers in their first romantic affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these idiots. They're so freaking adorable.  
> Oh man, I love how this chapter wrapped up. This was not intentional, but it was beautiful.
> 
> No the story is not over. This is only chapter 14! I'm just getting started!


	15. Date Before Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy's grown attached to Soldier, and takes him for a pre-dinner-date, as it were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting way too into this story right now.

Saturday came so fast that Andrew could hardly think. Spy came to wake him up, but he was already stomping out his morning exercise when the man arrived. He felt embarrassed, being all sweaty and gross in a pair of shorts, while Spy already looked ready for a fancy date. True to his nature through and through, the Spy did not look the least bit affected.

“Ah, you are awake,” Spy pulled the cigarette from his mouth, “I want to leave in about an hour. Can you be ready by then?”

Andrew blushed as Spy’s eyes moved down, sneaking their way to his shorts, “Affirmative! I’ll go take a shower now!”

“Good,” Spy put the cigarette directly back into his mouth as he headed off to the next task.

Soldier blinked and shrugged off the Spy’s slightly distant attitude. Maybe he was nervous about today. After all, they were going together, like a couple, to see the Sniper and his girlfriend. Soldier was not even sure if the Australian was aware of the relationship between them. This might come as a shock to him, no less his girlfriend.

He decided to pull his mind off of that, filing that worry for later. He needed to get showered and ready for the day.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy hurried through the halls with his hands in his jacket pockets and his head down low. He wanted to get back to his room and his space so badly at this moment. He could not deal with this out in the halls.

He had expected Soldier to be awake, but not to be like he was. It was not like when he would be outside doing pushups, where he would be fully dressed. He was freshly done with a set of pull ups, and thus had a fresh coat of glean on his flesh. The view probably would not have bothered him in the first place if not for the past few days. Having seen him without his shirt, and having touched him without his shirt should have made him immune to this, but thinking about that just drove him harder.

He had had to refrain from stepping through the door to close the distance between them. He had refrained from touching the glint off of the man’s muscles. He had stopped himself from pulling the Soldier into himself, embracing him in a deep wet kiss. If his mind was anything to go by, then he might well have dragged the man to his bed to grind on him.

He shook himself as he approached the door to the smoking room. “What is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself.

“I don’t know mate,” Sniper startled him, causing him to yelp.

“Sniper!” he exclaimed, turning to acknowledge the man.

Sniper was smirking, “Good to know there _is_ a way to startle a spook.”

“Don’t,” Spy commanded, reaching for his room keys.

“I was just coming to visit for a few minutes,” Sniper said.

“Really? What for?” Spy asked, as he opened the door. He remembered the tingling running up and down his body and strode quickly to his chair, where he could plop down, pretending to be tired. “Now is not a good time, mon ami,” he said, as he adjusted his legs.

“Seems like no better time,” Sniper argued, plopping himself down right on the couch.

It had been a very long time since Sniper had made himself at home in the smoking room. That was partly because he did not like how thick the smoke room was – given its name it was obviously a place that Spy smoked often. But, it was mainly because Sniper rarely liked being indoors, and usually knew that the Spy would come out to his camper without coaxing to spend extra hours. The recreational room was their usual compromise.

“You feeling alright, mate?” he asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Spy nodded, gesturing to him, “What did you want to talk about?”

Sniper cleared his throat, “Wanted to talk about the dinner.”

“Ah yes,” Spy felt a flush of heat.

He had yet to tell anybody that he had planned a much bigger day with the Soldier. Hell, he was barely surprised he got away with not telling the Soldier. His mind had been so wrapped up with Soldier that he had forgotten the part about Sniper and his woman.

“Mostly I am…” Sniper cleared his throat, “A little concerned about that friend of yours.”

“The Soldier?” he lifted an eyebrow.

“I’m just a bit worried,” Sniper’s jaw moved side to side as he thought about what he was going to say, “Soldier’s known for his outbursts and things. And I’m sure you’re right, that he means well. But the man’s brain goes off on tangents that I am afraid might scare Melisa.”

“You’re afraid he’ll do something to frighten Melisa?” Spy quirked an eyebrow at him, “Does she know what you do for a living?”

Sniper hesitated, before nodding, “Yes.”

“And does she know that Soldier and I…what we do for a living?” he pressed further.

Another hesitation from the Sniper, “Yes.”

There was a long silence as Spy thought about this. There were grave consequences for sharing things about work with outsiders. Civilians should never be dragged into this war, and dragging somebody you loved into a war this dangerous could have severe consequences. Whether those consequences came from the enemy, the person’s own fear, or from their employers remained to be seen.

“I’m trusting you with meeting my Sheila, mate,” Sniper finally spoke again, rubbing his hands together, “I didn’t think you’d bring along Soldier…but I’ll allow it. I just…I am concerned, you know?”

“If she knows what we do, then there should be no concern,” Spy said dismissively.

Sniper tried to protest, “Yea, but Spy-”

Spy held up a hand to silence him, “End of discussion. If she knows that we are mercenaries, then she knows what kind of men we must be. If we introduce Soldier, then she will have to understand that a veteran like him is not going to behave like a normal person.”

“A veteran eh?” Sniper lowered his head to look at the ground while shaking it, “I thought you were a veteran too. Two wars am I right?”

Spy chewed on his lip as he thought about how Sniper knew that. He had been vulnerable more than a few times over these many years. He had shared a lot about himself with the Sniper, so of course he managed to share some things about the Great Wars.

“Yes,” he spoke with caution, “I worked as a Spy. An undercover agent. An information gatherer. Often just a desk jockey.”

“Sounds pretty boring,” Sniper snickered.

“It’s not all about paperwork,” Spy shrugged, “But it was not as messy, loud and explosive as Soldier’s position was. He was a marine at the front. All of this war here between RED and BLU is nothing different to him, because he lived it.”

“Is it different to you?” Sniper raised his head to meet his gaze.

Spy shrugged, “Not anymore.”

“But it was when you started?” Sniper pressed.

“When I started? I thought this was all a sham,” Spy shook his head at the thought.

That got Sniper thinking about something though. His body had tensed and his hands stopped moving. There was something that had alarmed him about that. Maybe he had never thought of that possibility.

“Well, I won’t keep you then,” Sniper finally rose to his feet.

Spy joined him, finally feeling relaxed enough to be in company. He escorted Sniper to the door, as he normally would.

“I’ll see you around four thirty. Am I right?” Sniper raised an eyebrow at him.

Spy nodded, as he took the door in hand and opened it, “I will see you and Melisa at Gucci’s Italian Bistro at four thirty sharp.”

Sniper chuckled as he made his way into the hall, “No need to sound so formal about it. You’re just going to meet my girlfriend.”

“On the contrary,” Spy gave the man a smile. He had never been excited about the fact that Sniper had a girlfriend. But, now that he had pushed his own feelings for Sniper aside – primarily for Soldier – perhaps he could feel happier for him, and less bitter about the way things have turned out. “I get to meet your girlfriend! This is quite the turn of events!”

He listened to Sniper chuckle as he made his way down the hall. He smiled to himself as he closed the door. He would be okay meeting Melisa. Any other time the thought of meeting Sniper’s girlfriend had come to mind, he had felt revolted. This time, he felt like he was going to be okay.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The old wooded road gave away to paved streets about eighteen miles from base. There were no vehicles out here, and the road’s poor care showed this, yet Sniper still put on his blinker when he made a turn. He made it a point to have good driving habits when he was out in the middle of nowhere, so when he was in the city he could keep himself well-behaved.

He took the ramp up to the highway, which unbeknownst to his colleagues, led to a big city about forty miles from base. It was a huge city, fresh and twenty-two years young. It had sprouted up out of the roots of what apparently used to be a small town. That was the most he knew about it. From there, all he knew was that Melisa moved in less than a year ago to be closer to his base.

It had been a long time spent waiting for her to move. He had not expected her to move, not really. He did not ask her to stay close to him, as he knew the hardships of moving from one home to the next. But it was nice that she stayed close to him when she could.

When he pulled off on the exit ramp, he got a clear view of the city. It was a big place, all bustling with people. It did not look too different from cities, but it had this clean look to it with all of the glass and stuff. It was a real shift towards the future.

From the exit ramp, it was a ten-minute drive to the apartment complex. The streets were narrow here, and he had to search for parking elsewhere, but he could manage a walk. In fact, he enjoyed the brisk stroll to her front door. It started sprinkling during his stroll, but he did not mind it.

He brought a bouquet of flowers with him, just to be cute and romantic. When he knocked on the door, he was greeted with a look of delight and then a look of surprise. She did not expect him to bring flowers, like a romantic doofus.

“For me? Oh they’re so pretty!” she took a minute to admire and sniff them before she took them from his hands, “I’ll go put them in water. You know your way around!”

Sniper nodded and closed the door. He set his truck keys in the key dish where the rest of her keys go. She had asked him to take an apartment key, so he could come whenever, but he did not like the idea of having a key to her apartment so close to an enemy Spy’s reach. He did not know what the RED was capable of. For as fake as this war was for him, it was very real for them.

“I was thinking about it, and I think I might just wear the green dress,” Melisa called from across the apartment.

He meandered through the small space to search her out. He found her digging through a closet of dresses and dress shirts. She pulled out a long set of greet fabric to admire it against her body.

“That one is pretty,” he nodded.

“Yea but…what about the teal one?” she asked, pulling it out, “Would it be more suiting for color? But I think the green one is more impressive though. I’m not sure.” She sighed with dramatic despair.

“Darling, I don’t care which one you pick,” he told her, strolling up to take her by the waist, “You look gorgeous in both. And I much prefer you with ‘em off.”

“Yes, but I’m talking about dinner tonight!” she exclaimed with a loud huff.

“Spy and Soldier aren’t going to care what you wear!” Sniper assured her, shaking his head.

“To you it’s no big deal,” she stuck her lip out, “Your Spy is the kind of man who notices things. Little details catch his eye.”

“Spy is a man, he ain’t gonna know the difference!” he exclaimed.

“He notices whenever you change your hair,” she argued, “He notices and comments on it every time. Sometimes he doesn’t like it, but you do not notice because he is being a good friend, and you’re a bit socially dense.”

“Come on, babe. That’s not fair,” he pulled her hips against him.

She sighed, “I want to make a good impression on your friend.”

“If you know him so well, then you do what you think is best,” he chuckled, “Cause I don’t think he’s going to mind green or blue.”

“It’s teal. It’s just close to blue,” she lifted the dress for emphasis, “But it does matter! It’s the Spy!”

“It’s just the Spy, darling,” he assured her.

“But it’s _your_ Spy. Your friend,” Melisa explained, “He’s going to size me up. He’s going to look at me and decide whether he thinks I’m good enough for you or not.”

“Nah! That ain’t true! Spy knows I love you!” Sniper proclaimed.

“That ain’t the thing though,” she argued, sternly, “I want him to like me. I want us to get along. I want your friend to think I’m the best thing for you!”

“Nah,” he shook his head.

“He’s the best friend, he’s going to size me up,” she was very firm, “It’s intimidating to think about. Not because he’s a Spy…but because he’s your best friend. He’s been your _mate_ since you started there, right? I’ve only just been in your life a few years. He’s known you so long. I feel like the new friend stepping on the old friend’s shoes.”

“Nah! Come on, love,” he tried to assure her, pulling her with him so he could sit down on the bed. She stood over him, the dresses in either hand. “Look love, I know Spy. Okay? Spy’s a quiet guy who slinks around the shadows and studies people. Yea, he’s a bit of a creep. Yea he’s a bit judgmental. But him and I are friends. I know he’s gonna love you, because I love you. Do you understand?”

She sighed, her shoulders finally sinking in a manner that decided the winner. She looked down at him with a look of defeat, “You really think he’s going to like me?”

“Of course I do, darling!” he rose to his feet again, forcing her to take a step back, “And I love you so much, that it wouldn’t matter either way.”

She hesitated, pausing for thought. She was coming up with some idea. She was brilliant like that, almost like Spy. She probably could have become a Spy, if Sniper let her. According to Melisa she did not need permission, but she followed his wishes anyways and stayed far away from the actual fighting of Mann Co’s war. A woman like her could handle being around men like that, but as a person with low pain tolerance and who was easy to scare, Melisa did not need the trauma of war, violence and death.

“What about you? What if you were meeting Spy’s girlfriend?” she asked, giving him a suspicious glare.

“What?” he blinked down at her, “He said he had no lady friend.”

“Hypothetically,” she explained, “What if he invited you to meet his _lady friend_ at dinner.”

“I’m thinking about it,” he tried to put an image of a woman next to Spy.

It was hard to imagine, because he did not know the man’s tastes, and guessing at it could very well be offensive, or be absolutely provocative to his current situation. He settled for a blonde Russian with large breasts that threatened the front of her low cut dress, and a hemline that did not go far down the thigh.

“Now imagine you’re meeting his girlfriend…it’s the first time…you’ve only heard things about her,” he was thinking about it as she explained it, “Wouldn’t you be thinking on whether she could be better, or if he could do better?”

He pondered this for a minute, but this was hard to do. The image of a pretty, long legged blonde was still marinating in his head. He could not focus on the question at hand.

“I don’t think I’d care either way,” he told her, “Spy has high standards. I have high standards. It’s something we have in common. So why don’t we stop arguing about it, and let me show you my standards.”

He bent down to scoop her up. She squealed, surprised and delighted at the gesture, “Glenn no! The dresses!” He let the dresses fall to the ground as he flopped her on the bed and dropped down beside her.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy was amused that Soldier was all dressed up. It was more than he had intended the man to do so early in the day. It was not even getting to be noon time. Their dinner date was many hours away.

When Andrew sidled out of his room, he finally mustered up the thought to ask a question. “I thought we were having dinner this evening with Sniper and his girlfriend.” It was not really a question, more of a musing over the fact that there was a question that needed to be asked.

Spy turned to him with an amused smirk, “I know. But I planned a day for us.”

He motioned for Andrew to follow as he led the way out of the base. He headed directly for his car, which was parked in a calculated manner, so as not to attract attention. It was far enough away from the base that he was sure nobody would damage it. He parked it somewhat near where Sniper’s camper usually was, so that the man could keep an ear out for possible intruders. But, the camper was not there anymore, having left earlier that morning for the city.

“Wasn’t Sniper’s camper right here?” Andrew paused and looked around for the vehicle.

“He left earlier,” he said dismissively, “He always goes to see his girlfriend on Saturday. It’s his routine.”

“Oh,” Soldier nodded, “Good for him.”

Spy unlocked the car and opened the door for the Soldier. After the man was seated he got into the driver’s seat and they were on their way. He did not head in the direction of the Italian Bistro. Instead, he headed for a city that had a small theater. After having checked out he area, he found that it was playing what it called classics from the seventies and eighties, but for him and Andrew, they would be new.

“Where are we going?” Andrew asked.

“How would you like to see a movie?” Spy offered.

“I would like that,” Andrew’s face turned flush, “I promise not to ruin our date this time.”

Spy smiled, with a chuckle, “You could never ruin it, Soldier.”

Andrew frowned at him. He did not say anything this time though. Spy already knew that the man wanted to correct him on saying his name.

“I’m sorry, Andy,” Spy offered, “I’m simply not used to saying your name. It’s an old habit to call you by your title.” He was surprised to see a smile out of the corner of his eye. “And now even so…you’re smiling?” he gave the man a questioning look.

“You called me Andy!” he gave him a big smile.

“Well yes, you wanted me to, didn’t you?” Spy asked, hesitantly.

“You’ve been very formal in the past,” Andrew explained, “I like it when you are casual. It is when you are relaxed that you act most casual.”

Spy chuckled, “I’m surprised you understand _casual_.”

Andrew lost his smile, “Why would I not understand that?”

“You’ve got formal soldier and formal date,” Spy reached over to tap Soldier’s tie.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a formal dinner?” Andrew asked.

“Yes, but we’re not going to dinner yet,” Spy shrugged it off.

 

*********************************************************************

 

When they were settled into the theater, it felt nice. The place felt unlike any theater Andrew had ever been in. It was very cool, but in a nice way that was not like the cold rains by the base. The screen was bigger than he remembered and the sound more booming and boisterous than the theaters he remembered growing up in.

Still, despite the noise that sometimes had him wondering where his pistol was, he enjoyed himself. He could not really follow the story. Hell, he could not name any of the characters on the screen. But, he enjoyed it all because the Spy was practically cuddling him, their armrest raised and out of the way, an arm around his shoulders to pull him in and his weight pressed against Andrew’s arm. Andrew started to feel like a teenager dating little Patsy Mae again.

“Comfortable, Andy?” that voice was low and sultry, the breath was against his ear, and the tongue could not have been two inches from him.

Andrew needed a minute to collect his wits. Forget his thoughts, he was almost losing control of himself at that point. He had never heard Spy talk like that before, and while he was already hanging over him, it felt like a sudden dare to do something. Good little girls like Patsy Mae would never have done something like that, dare him to make a move.

He finally nodded slowly. He felt the heat brimming in his body, not just in his face either. He was a bit uncomfortable now though, but he did not want to tell Spy. He did not want the man to move from where he was. He wanted to stay like this.

“Do you like the film?” Spy’s voice was like silk on his ears.

“I’m not watching the movie,” he forced his voice down to something low and hushed.

“Oh?” Spy seemed to be backpedaling. His arm was starting to move from his shoulders.

Andrew suddenly reached up to grab the wrist of the arm around his shoulders. He did not want to move. He wanted to stay like this with him draped around him. He did not care that it was in a big dark movie theater.

“A-Andy?” Spy stuttered, “Is something wrong?”

He quickly shook his head, not wanting Spy to get the wrong notion about the situation. His attention got caught by some teenagers a few rows down. He was not sure Spy had noticed them before, but at some point, they had stopped watching the movie and started kissing.

A smirk creeped up on his face as he turned to face Spy. The man had a look of concern in his eyes. It was a look that questioned Andrew’s sanity. He could not be more sane than he was in that moment though, he was sure of that. He gazed into those hazel eyes, still brilliant in spite of how dark it was here. The moments that the screen shone brightly he could catch the flecks of green and blue in his irises.

He put a finger under Spy’s chin, drawing close to his face. He could feel the breath against his face now, as their noses came close to touching. He tried to give the impression of longing and desire.

Spy looked to him and leaned real close. Andrew reveled in feeling soft lips against his own. As the kiss deepened, his heart raced. Every part of his body tingled with adrenaline, while Spy pushed harder into him.

Spy was fierce, with a fiery hunger in every attempt to suck Andrew’s face off. He would have laughed, if not for trying to match Spy’s needy mood. He could not smile, not when his facial muscles needed to respond to the taste of tongue in his mouth.

He heard a small groan and finally chuckled, feeling somehow triumphant in the noise. Spy pulled back a bit, offended by Andrew’s chuckling. Andrew wrapped an arm around Spy’s back, pulling him tightly against his own body.

Practically rib to rib, there was no real escape from the kissing. Spy did not seem to mind it anyways. He sort of melted as Andrew pulled at him.

One of Spy’s arms was still snaked around his shoulders, and it clung to him. The other grasped at the front of his suit. He began to worry as his tie became loose and disorderly. But, he could worry about that later, when the time called for it.

For now, he was engulfed in the taste and smell of the man next to him. He held him tightly, though he also wanted his hands exploring beneath that coy suit. He kissed him lightly, only to tease him into another deep kiss.

 

Andrew did not need to do much to fix himself, because Spy did most of the fidgeting. They were sitting in the car, where Spy was busily straightening out wrinkles and disorderly ties on their suits.

Andrew stopped his hands at his neck, where his collar had become eschew, “We are not meeting them until four thirty sharp. Correct?”

Spy nodded, “Yes we are meeting at Gucci’s Italian at four thirty.”

“Sharp,” Andrew added.

“Correct,” was the response.

“Then what is your hurry?” Andrew smirked as he grabbed at the Spy’s tie.

“Andy no!” Spy exclaimed, just as their lips planted together.

He pulled away to speak, “Andy yes!”

“I cannot afford somebody seeing us,” Spy pulled away, straightening his mask around the neck.

“Why does it matter? Cause we’re gay?” Andrew wanted to feel hurt and anguish, but it was mostly deflated under the understanding that this relationship was taboo.

“I have no hold ups on being sexually attracted to a man as handsome as you. I don’t care who knows,” Spy gave him a stern glare, “But if an enemy saw me with you...even just being together in this vehicle would make you a target!”

“I don’t care. Let the enemy see!” Andrew declared, rebelliously.

“Andrew no!” Spy exclaimed, “I don’t want you hurt!”

“I am a strong American man!” Andrew spoke proudly of himself.

“I know that,” Spy took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, “I still don’t want you hurt. I don’t want you taken advantage for my foolishness.”

Andrew huffed a sigh, letting out his despair like a deflating balloon. He had been so riled up from their activities in the darkness of the theater. Of course, they had had to pull themselves together during the credits so they could stumble out through the lobby and into the bright light of day. It had only been a hope for Andrew to throw himself into it again when he had Spy alone in the car.

“Let’s go somewhere private,” Spy said, as he put his car into gear.

Andrew smirked, delighted to find that Spy was just as eager as he was to get back to it. It felt like being a teenage boy all over again. Perhaps Spy even felt the same way about this. Perhaps they could just forget they were old men, mercenaries killing other full grown men, and just have at it for hours until they had to go meet with Sniper and his girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you remember that you are writing a relationship fic about really old mercenaries who laugh when they kill people...and don't worry about it.


	16. Quite the Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper is introducing his girlfriend to his best friend, and his best friend to his girlfriend. He is not quite happy that Soldier is thrown into the mix, but he will have to deal. Besides, it is not like his gal cannot handle herself.

Quickly drying his hair, Sniper tossed the towel aside and started getting dressed. It was time for their date with the Spy and the Soldier, and despite what he had told Melisa before, he was a little worried. Some part of him now fretted over what Spy would think of her. He wanted his friend to be impressed, after all. Surely he would be though, seeing how gorgeous Melisa was in any dress, no matter what amount of makeup she put on.

Of course Spy would be impressed with her! Why would he not be? She was gorgeous, a sweetheart, intelligent, and certainly knew her way around a kitchen. That part he usually left out though because she got upset with him for it. It had something to do with feminism or something, he was not really sure.

At the end of the day, she was his Melisa, his one-of-a-kind blue eyed gal. And one day maybe they would have kids together so they could have a family. Maybe they would have kids with her eyes and her cunning. He would like them to have something from him, but he would like it if they all looked like Melisa.

“Glenn?” she called him from across the apartment.

He sidled through the apartment to find her in the kitchen. She was watching something on her computer screen. All the while she was biting her nail. Surely she was not watching more footage of the show, was she?

He looked past her shoulder and saw that she was indeed watching more of the show. He cleared his throat, hoping not to startle her. She turned her eye to him questioningly. He got the idea that she wanted him to look at what she was seeing.

“What are you watching there?” he asked, pretending to be none the wiser.

“This is the latest episode from your base,” she explained.

“Hmmph,” he looked at the screen, watching with very little interest. He saw himself from a wide angle, looking awkward as he spoke with the rigid Soldier. “Oh yea, that was that barbeque we had last week.”

“Any reason you were being so hard on Soldier?” she asked.

“N-no,” he shied away, uncertainly, “I just wanted to talk with him. He’s Spy’s new friend and all. Seems natural to want to get to know the guy.”

“But look at him!” she exclaimed, motioning to the screen.

“Look at him? I work with the man, I’ve seen enough of him,” Sniper protested, scratching the back of his scalp.

“No, I mean really look,” she insisted.

He sighed, “Alright. I’m looking. I’m looking. What am I supposed to be seeing?” He looked at the screen, which she had paused.

“Right there,” she pointed to the Soldier on screen, “The Soldier is reacting.”

“He reacts to a lot of things,” he rolled his eyes.

“Yea, but that’s usually when there’s something gone wrong,” she explained, “I’ve seen this. I’ve watched the Soldier make this face before.”

Sniper growled with disdain. He disliked the fact that she was always watching him. To her, it was no big deal. To her, it was just another ordinary show. To him, it was his life, being put on display for others’ entertainment.

She seemed to have come to some understanding about that, but would not stop watching. If it was not his team’s show, then it would be some other team’s show. That did not sit well with him, as watching her cheer some other Sniper had been weird.

“He’s making that face, Glenn,” Melisa explained.

“What face, love?” Glenn peered closer at the screen.

“That face my grandpa used to make,” she explained, “He had PTSD. Whenever things started to get to him, he would zone out like that. Always had a hard time around people, even when he was being friendly.”

“Is that so?” he peered at her, thoughtfully.

“Were you yelling at him?” she asked.

“Yelling at him? No!” he exclaimed, defensively.

“You haven’t wanted me to meet the Soldier, and you’ve complained about the Spy bringing him along, all week,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. She was such a stubborn lady. She could have a mean streak if she wanted to.

“I didn’t rough him up or nothing,” he insisted, “I was just havin’ a talk with him. That’s all. That’s when I told him about the dinner. Don’t think Spy got around to telling him, by then.”

She sighed and shook her head at him. Her disappointment was apparent. He was sure that she was already thinking through the many ways he could have been talking to the man.

“Look, love, I didn’t say nothing bad,” he insisted, “I promise you. I wasn’t messin’ with him, or anything. Just having a chat.”

Melisa sighed, “I just want this meeting to go well.”

“No worries!” he insisted, reaching over to squeeze her shoulders, “Soldier’s a nice guy. I’m just worried about his…ridiculous outbursts. He’s really out there. And meeting him in person is not like watching him over there on that tele.” She glanced at the monitor, before turning her full attention back to him. “I’m sure you’ll get along fine.”

“Alright,” she nodded.

“Just don’t mention anything about knowing anything,” he added, “Okay?”

She laughed at that, “Glenn! I know! Don’t say anything to Spy or Soldier. Don’t talk about the show. Don’t talk about the war. Don’t talk about cameras. Don’t talk about Administration. Don’t discuss politics. Just keep my mouth shut in regards to the outside world!”

He chuckled at her, “Right, darling. I’m gonna go get dressed then.”

“Right. We should leave pretty soon,” she insisted, as she turned to her task of donning skin-colored stockings.

 

Sniper glanced at his watch with a feeling of worry. To Melisa’s request, they had arrived at four ten, on the dot, in order to make sure the reservations were in place and they would not lose their table. It left him to feel worried though, and he ended up meandering outside to wait for Spy’s arrival. He was grateful to Melisa for being such an understanding woman, just about any other woman would have been driven crazy by the fact that he needed to get outside of the nice restaurant.

The unmistakable 1952 Chevy Bel Air with some pine sap sticking to the black finish pulled up into the parking lot, but stayed at a distance from the door. Sniper strolled along the sidewalk, hoping to get a peek at the window. He saw Spy there, with his mask and everything, doing something with his head turned. Perhaps he was talking to the Soldier or something, maybe discussing his behavior.

When he opened the door he did not quite turn his head. He was saying something, but Sniper could not make it out. After the Soldier hopped out of the car, Spy turned and then noticed Sniper’s presence. He waved, earning a wave from the Frenchman in response. The two newcomers fell into step as they made their way to the restaurant. It was odd seeing how in sync the two were.

“Glad you made it,” Sniper chuckled.

“I’m never late, mon ami,” Spy was fiddling with the lapels of his jacket.

“You look fine, mate,” he assured his friend, before he led the way into the restaurant. He led them past the bus boy, heading straight to the table where he had left Melisa.

Upon seeing them enter, Melisa shot up like she was shocked in the rear end. She gave a big smile and awkwardly waved to them. He could tell that she was nervous, almost anxious to meet two men she knew so much about, but had never properly met before.

“Ah! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” true to her smart nature, Melisa acted like she did not know which one was which, “And you are…um…”

“I am the Spy,” the gentleman took her hand and bowed over it. Glenn almost called him out for it, knowing how a staunchly handsome gentleman like Spy could probably get away with a lot with the ladies, even without being French.

When the other man came forward, he gave her a big smile, “Hi! My name is Andrew!”

Glenn was more than a big shocked. He was being a bit boisterous, as he expected the Soldier to be, but he never expected a name. They never shared names back at the base. Nobody ever learned your name unless you specifically wanted them to know about it. Spy was an exception, having fished out his information at some point. The Medic was the only person he had ever actually told his real name, having been put under pressure by the man during a surgical procedure.

“It is nice to finally meet this lovely lady!” the Soldier said, with a big smile.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Melisa smiled at them, “I’m Melisa.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Spy said, sparing Glenn a sidelong glance, “This man talks endlessly about you. And now I see why.”

“Such a charmer! As Glenn said you were!” Melissa giggled.

“Yup…a charmer,” Glenn eyed Spy suspiciously. The man could have a way with words, and he wondered if he was going to play him around his girlfriend.

Melisa motioned to the table, “Shall we sit?”

“But of course,” Spy agreed.

Glenn stepped around the table to his seat. Both he and Melisa were halfway to their seat cushions when he heard the Spy tsk. They both looked at him with confusion.

“Is that any way to treat your lady?” Spy asked, with a condescending tone, “Hold her chair for her!”

The Soldier pulled out a chair and gestured to it. Without pause or question, Spy took a seat on the chair. He made a deliberate show of the Soldier pushing in his chair and holding a posture that spoke of posh formality. He exchanged a knowing smile with the Soldier, almost as if they had exchanged some unspoken conversation without a single word.

Glenn cleared his throat as he stood up straight. Melisa stood up slower, looking abashedly at the table. She was not the kind of girl that Spy seemed to think she was. She was the outdoors type of woman, she liked skiing and hiking. She preferred being treated _equal_ in a sense, not like some soft flower. So, when he brought her chair to her, she was awkward in sitting down.

“That’s better,” Spy’s smile went from Melisa to Glenn and back.

Sniper and Soldier sat down at the same time. Sniper glared at Soldier, but the man was giddily smiling and starting up a conversation with Melisa. He could not believe this was happening though. Spy was lecturing him on how to behave around his girlfriend. And now the Soldier was talking to her like she was another mercenary.

“Don’t you think so, Glenn?” Melisa pulled him out of his thoughts.

He was stumped, with sweat on his brow, when he realized that he had tuned out their conversation. He had been moping in his own thoughts, trying to muster the ability to not throw a fit. These kind of meetings would not happen if Spy made anymore friends out of mercenaries.

“Er…um…I dunno,” he stammered, awkwardly. He felt his face heat up.

He caught that gleeful smirk on the Spook’s face. The man loved making people turn red. He loved manipulation. He loved having these kinds of situations, where he had the upper hand.

“I miss living in an outdoors setting,” Melisa sighed, “I used to live out by the vineyards in California. Now I’m cooped up in the city. What a strange life I’ve gotten myself into.” She giggled awkwardly at that, as the waiter came to take their order.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew could not make head nor tails out of what was going on between the Sniper and the Spy. By this point, he had put together that Sniper’s name was Glenn and Melisa very well did not know that he was a Sniper. It would be best then to call him by his name instead of his title. That seemed like the right option.

“Say Glenn, could you pass me the salt?” he asked, setting down his fork.

Sniper shot him a glare, his already dark eyes darkening. He picked up the shaker and carefully handed it to him, “Sure mate.” There was a strange sense of cheer in his words, but there was a dark warning in his gaze.

“Glenn, stop being so cranky!” Melisa chuckled at him.

Soldier chuckled with her. She was a pleasant woman, an American girl from an American home. Who would have thought that the Sniper had found him a woman that loved the outdoors too? They went on hikes and camping trips together on the weekends. That sounded like a lot of fun, and it made him happy for the Sniper. He was one of the only mercenaries working for Mann Co who got a chance at love, and a love that fit his lifestyle perfectly.

That made him wonder about himself and Spy. Were they a good match? Looking at Spy, the man was certainly handsome, and he could not deny that there was something that he had for him. Perhaps Spy was right and he was falling for him.

But, the man was posh and high class, while Soldier was rigid and practical. Spy’s style was clean and tidy, but Andrew was dirty and often messy, sometimes in spite of practicality. Spy was smart and studious, able to read people and maneuver an entire crowd’s conversation, even when he hated everybody involved. Soldier could only blunder through a conversation, nixing the social graces – he would count himself dead if he stopped being extroverted.

Spy was secretive and reserved. He was good at keeping secrets. He was good at being a Spy, a collector of intelligence.

Andrew was boisterous, loud and obnoxious. He was crude in his own way, usually by being noisy. He was strong, good with a gun, and even a rocket launcher. He was very good at being a Soldier.

None of these things equated to them being compatible at all. And when he thought about – the more he thought about it – the more he found himself feeling despair. And when he looked at Melisa and her boyfriend, he saw a compatible couple – granted not a very lovey dovey type of couple, but a couple nonetheless. They looked quite perfect for each other, while Soldier did not see Spy being compatible with him.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Melisa pulled him out of his train of thought.

“No, nothing,” Soldier assured her, with a smile.

“I’m sure he’s just trying to remember if he turned off the oven or not,” Spy was quick to add an excuse for him.

“The oven? I- Do you cook?” she gave Andrew the most quizzical expression he had ever seen.

“I…yes, I do, actually,” he nodded slowly.

She gave Sniper a surprised glance, “You cook? What do you cook?”

“I…er…” he felt abashed, heat rising to his cheeks, “It’s only a recent hobby, actually. I’ve been trying to learn how to make stuff.”

He decided to be vague and not give anything specific. That seemed like a smart thing that a Spy would do. He looked over at Spy, curious to see what his reaction might be to what he had said. Maybe he would approve of the vagueness left in Andrew’s words.

“Ah yes, he even tried making some French desserts,” Spy chuckled.

“Oh really?” Melisa’s eyes were practically bulging.

“Surprising really,” Spy gave Andrew a smile. He was not sure if it was meant to be coy or approving. “He did it all without the use of an oven – without the use of the kitchen – and even did a subpar job.”

“Subpar?” Andrew asked, a bit timidly. He did not remember how much Spy had liked the dishes he had made, only that he ate them.

“Not perfect, but passable,” Spy offered.

“Well, I should take to practicing with you sometime!” Melisa smiled at Andrew.

“Aren’t you taking that…what is it? Home economics class?” Sniper asked.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” Melisa nodded in agreement.

“A class,” Spy raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It’s a class to pass the time,” Melisa shrugged, “And I get to learn how to make neat things.”

The conversation went on like this for a long time. Spy, Melisa and Andrew did most of the talking. Andrew noted that Sniper did very little talking, but decided not to push anything. Spy knew him best, and if Spy was not going to push him, then Andrew would not push him either. It was best to leave well enough alone, after all. Aside from that, he was having a good time talking to Melisa.

But, as with all things, the conversation came to an end. Andrew could not believe how late it had gotten to be. They had been there for over three hours talking. Spy and Melisa seemed to have hit it off with their discussion, which was probably a good thing for Sniper. That made Andrew smile, knowing that Sniper could get a thumbs up from his best friend about his girlfriend.

They all walked out of the restaurant together, talking about the food they had filled up on. For Andrew, there had been so much talk that he hardly remembered what he ate. He knew there had been some appetizers, some main dish and a dessert. For all he could remember, Spy probably ordered it for him, when he could not decide. It did not matter what it was, because his tummy was full and that made him feel relaxed and happy.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Melisa offered a hand to Spy.

He shook her hand gently in two gloved hands. He gave her a warm smile, meeting her gaze. Andrew looked on as the two seemed to exchange some unspoken piece of conversation.

“The pleasure has been all mine, mademoiselle,” Spy finally assured her.

Sniper put a hand on Melisa’s lower back, leading her to his camper truck, “See ya around base, guys.”

Andrew tried to hide his smirk and his flushed cheeks. With the chipper attitude Sniper had taken on, he was probably getting laid tonight. Good for him too. Melisa was a pretty girl, not petite but not huge. She was a woman with nice curves, and certainly a personality that Sniper loved.

When they hopped into the car, earlier thoughts came into mind. He thought about Sniper and Melisa, then about himself and Spy. It did not make sense that this could work out in any way. Or perhaps they were just kidding themselves and not seeing it.

“Are we different?” he asked, as Spy turned on the engine.

“What? What the hell does that mean?” Spy asked, giving him a strange look.

“I mean…you and I…” Andrew shifted in his seat to try and face him, “We’re really different, aren’t we?”

“Where is this coming from?” Spy asked, with concern in his voice.

“I want to know,” Andrew pleaded. He had not realized that he wanted to know so badly that it had come out in such a desperate manner. “I want to know that we aren’t too different to work out.”

Spy blinked at him a few times. His hand turned the key, killing the engine. He let his hand drop from the ignition, while his eyes searched for an answer. His mouth moved a bit, his lips searching for a shape to conform to, but he looked indecisive about that too.

“I don’t understand,” Spy’s worry turned into lines on his forehead, “Everything has gone so well, hasn’t it?” There was a bit of strain on his tone. “The date earlier? The kissing? The way we talk together? The way we act together?”

Andrew opened his mouth but he could not find words to speak. All of that was great. It was so perfect that he could not believe it was real. Had he reached back to tell himself a few weeks ago that there was such a thing as a perfect relationship, with a perfect person, who would sync up to him in a perfect manner, he would have laughed himself to death. And then after respawning, he would have laughed himself to death again. After the second respawn he would have laughed some more, but he probably would have cooled down by then.

“Is…is this not what you want?” Spy asked. There was something desperate and sad in his voice that broke Andrew’s heart.

“N- YES!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. He felt a lump in his throat and had to stop himself to swallow it down. “Yes it is…it’s everything I could have ever wanted and more.”

“Then…” Spy was teetering off. He cleared his throat, seeming to gather his wits. “Then what is it that you want, Andrew? What is it? Is it me? Is it…something I do? Or…have done? What?”

Andrew shook his head, “No! You’re perfect! It’s not you at all!”

“Then what?!” Spy pleaded.

Those hazel eyes bore into his soul. He felt terrible, like his heart was being wrenched out of place. He began to worry about what he was saying, or what he might say. He was afraid he was about to ruin everything.

“Andrew, please tell me,” Spy suddenly grabbed Andrew’s hand, “Are you not happy with something in our relationship?”

He looked down at the hand holding his, feeling momentarily stunned. The hand was hidden within a glove, but he still felt so wonderful holding a hand. Years of isolation from human touch does that to a man.

He raised his eyes to look at Spy’s hazels. They were mesmerizing beauties, with flecks of green and blue. He could spend hours just looking at the fragmented patterns, trying to memorize the way the colors splayed out around his pupils.

“I want to be a couple,” Andrew finally said.

Spy was quiet, waiting for him to finish. He was taking a few moments to think about it though. He wanted to be sure that what he was going to say would not break what they had.

“I want this to be…you and me, Jacques,” he put his other hand on top of Spy’s, “I want this relationship. I want to be with you.” He raised his eyes to meet Spy’s worried gaze. “I just want to know that it is what _you_ want.”

Spy’s free hand reached up to cup Andrew’s face, “You’re more man than I could ever hope for.”

Andrew was not exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but took it as a compliment. He leaned into the hand against his cheek and closed his eyes. The smell of leather tickled his nose gently. He would wait until Spy was somewhere secure, before asking him to remove his gloves and touch him with his soft hands.

“I want this relationship more than you know,” Spy admitted, leaning towards him.

Andrew leaned forward, moving so close to him that he could feel his breath. They could smell each other, their eyes meeting for split moments as they tried to decide between eye contact and lip contact. Their lips met, as Spy pushed in, taking a deep breath through his nose as he tasted Andrew’s lips with the tip of his tongue.

When the kiss broke, their eyes met. Andrew had to close his eyes. The kiss left him a little shaken with excitement. He was shaking all over, excited and exhilarated. If he met Spy’s brilliant hazel gaze, he was sure he would lose his self-control, if not his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew, why do you have to make me cry.


	17. Roses are RED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a RED Spy in the base.

February 14, 2001

“Happy Valentine’s day, lads!” Demoman announced loudly and without warning.

After a long day of work, nobody wanted to be cheery but Demo. Well, that was aside from Andrew. He perked right up when he caught Spy in the corner of his eye. A devious grin wanted to sneak across his face, but he restrained it as best as he could.

The Demoman slapped his shoulder, “I wanna get drunker than I’ve ever been!”

“That’s your goal every time you drink,” the Medic argued, “And it doesn’t suit you well.”

“Well, I wanna get drunk until I can’t get drunk anymore!” Demo declared.

“Alright then,” Andrew shrugged it off, turning to head off.

“Hey! What’s the big rush? Got to get your nickers cleaned? Or are you not man enough for a bit of drink?” Demoman shook a fresh bottle of whiskey in his hand.

He eyed the bottle thoughtfully. It had been a while since he just had a bit of fun and drink with the guys. Demoman was always inclusive, and so he always pulled Soldier in for a drink. It was fun to get shitfaced once in a while.

Yet, in the corner of his eye, he saw Spy and he wanted so badly to take both. He wanted to take some of that booze and run off to spend time with Spy. He stood there with his tongue in a knot, trying to decide what to do.

“What? Kitty cat got your tongue?” Demo taunted, laughing all the while.

“Bet ya I could match what you drink, Solly!” the Scout exclaimed.

Andrew blinked at the boy. There was that strange name again, Solly. When did he ever get that name? His name was Andrew and his title was Soldier.

“No way! That’s crazy, mate!” the Scotsman laughed, “What do you say, Soldier?” When the Soldier gave him no answer, he decided to move on. “Well fine then, the boy and I will get along just fine and get started,” he poured himself and the Scout each a shot of whiskey, “And you can join us when you’re about ready to drop your nads and become a man again!”

He laughed as he clinked his glass with the Scout’s. They both threw the whiskey back without a second thought. Demo gave a relieved sigh and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, but the Scout started coughing and taking deep breaths. He did not take well to the strong drink the Demoman had provided.

“You alright there, Scout?” Andrew asked, a bit concerned.

“Yea, I’m fine,” Scout started laughing, putting up his tough guy attitude, “I’m already one drink deeper than you to bein’ drunk!”

Andrew frowned and reached for a glass. He slammed it on the counter by the Demoman’s glass and deepened his frown. He turned his head to look at the Demoman, though he knew they could not see his eyes under his helmet.

“What’ll it be, Soldier?” Demo asked.

“Whiskey on the rocks!” he announced proudly, “Nix the rocks! I want it to go straight from the bottle to my glass to my gut!”

 

Andrew’s sides were sore and he barely had breath by the time he looked at a clock. He was stunned to see that it was just about to turn midnight. He had been drinking with Scout and Demo all evening.

“You have somewhere to be, lad?” Demo laughed.

“Do not tell me you are missing the Spy!” Scout snickered.

Andrew fumbled for words to respond. He felt heat rise in his cheeks, but they were already flushed from the drinks. He tried to formulate something, but his mouth moved wordlessly.

Demoman laughed, “Come off it, boy! You do not hafta go on like that!”

“First time you’ve come and hung out with us in a while!” Scout argued, “What? Can’t hang anymore, or something?”

“No,” Andrew argued, “I just...” He searched almost desperately for an excuse for the past few weeks.

“Don’t have to explain to us,” Demoman shot Scout a glare, “Boy’s just bein’ a brat.”

“Hey! Don’t call me a brat!” Scout exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t hafta if you weren’t acting like it, lad,” the Demo shook his head at Scout.

“It ain’t like he’s been around much lately!” Scout argued.

“Man can do what he likes,” Demo argued.

Fortunately, the conversation between Demo and Scout gave him time to think, “I have been a little under the weather, that’s all.”

Both men gave him a quizzical look. Neither of them seemed to believe him. He immediately wished he could erase his words and change what he had said.

“You haven’t been in to see the doc in some time now,” Scout said, giving him a suspicious look, “If you’re sick, then why haven’t you been to the infirmary?”

Andrew shuffled his feet with uncertainty, “I’m not sick. Just not feeling right. Alright?”

“What do you mean?” Scout pressed.

Andrew frowned, “I’m just not feeling well, alright? Now drop it.”

“Easy mate,” Demo patted his shoulder, “No need to get defensive. Lad’s just a boy, ya know.”

“I ain’t no little kid! I ain’t been a little kid! In fact, I’m turning seventy-seven next week!” Scout exclaimed, “Just because I’ve retained _my_ good looks, doesn’t make me a child!”

“No! It means you’re still a twenty-five-year-old boy, with his same cocky attitude,” the Medic jested, joining in the group.

“I ain’t! I’m turning seventy-seven!” Scout argued.

Wow time had flown by. Soldier remembered when he had just met the boy. He was fresh off the streets of Boston, thinking he could smash anybody’s face in and win the war in a week. He had such innocence about him, but that same cocky, false bravado he still had with him. He had not changed much, other than growing more used to war and seeing other men die and blood get spattered. That was something he had hoped the youth would not have to tolerate long, but it seemed that now, at seventy-seven years old, Scout was definitely more used to the sight of death.

“You’re still cock sure and full of yourself, lad!” Demoman laughed, agreeing with the Medic.

“According to recent research on the effects of the respawn, our minds have not changed much,” the Medic explained. He had this formal tone in his voice, like he was going to lecture him.

“I would suppose so, mate,” Demo laughed, “Else we wouldn’t be who we are. And we’d probably have otherwise changed our minds and gotten outta this bloody place!”

“No, I mean we’ve changed less than normal men would have,” the Medic explained.

“That’s pretty obvious to me,” Demo nodded.

Medic rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively, “If you aren’t going to listen, then I won’t bother explaining.”

Demo chuckled, reaching over to hand the man a fresh, unopened beer. The Medic enjoyed his drink, and thus accepted it with a smile. With a few of those, the man would forget what he had wanted to lecture them on and would be happier than a rabbit in a carrot field.

“If we were aging normally, you’d likely be a crotchety old man shouting at men who look like you do now,” Medic chuckled before suckling on the beer.

“If we were aging normally…most of us would not be alive,” Andrew muttered. He had not meant for them to hear him, it was meant to be his own thought, but they did hear them and they all fell silent at hearing that.

He kept his eyes on the floor in front of his boots though, refusing to look any of them in the eyes. He was afraid they might say something, or that they might meet his gaze and say nothing. All the while, he felt like there was somebody’s gaze on the back of his neck.

“Say doc,” Scout finally broke the silence, “Ain’t you usually in bed by now? It’s like, half past midnight now. And you’re usually complaining about nine being late or something. What are you doing up?”

“Was trying to do some research. It turns out that late at night is not the time to be performing procedures,” Medic paused to rub his eyes. He turned his attention to Soldier, with a quizzical raise of the eyebrow. “Herr Soldier, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m not a hare!” Andrew announced, feeling threatened at being put on the spot, “And I have been around, on and off the battlefield!”

“No,” the Medic shook his head, “I meant the infirmary. You’ve yet to pay a visit. Have you been respawning at the end of every match?”

Andrew hesitated before he nodded, “Yes.”

“Hmmph,” the Medic gave him a curious and studious look.

“What?” Andrew questioned, feeling unsure about the way the man studied him.

“You should come by the infirmary once in a while,” Medic answered, “Even if you are still in good health, it would be good to check up on you.”

“Yea, Solly here said he’s feeling under the weather or something,” Scout blurted.

Andrew clenched and unclenched his fists. He would have liked to wrap his fingers around that boy’s throat and give him a good shake. He glanced at the clock though, and thought it was beyond time to be lying in bed.

“I’m going to bed,” he set the last of his drink on the makeshift bar, “It’s too late to be up, when we have to work again.”

“Come to see me tomorrow, Soldier!” Medic called after him, as he charged off for his room.

He left the Medic no room to catch up or stop him. He did not want to talk about all of this, much less to the Medic. Soldier may be the dumbest on the team but he knew Medic to be the smartest. Engie was quick like a whip, but usually minded his own business.

When he arrived at his door, he got a funny feeling that rose up the back of his neck. It was like steel eyes were piercing into the back of his head. He was not sure why, if it was paranoia or if Spy had crept up on him. He hesitated, debating whether to open the door and silently invite Spy inside, or turn and wait for him to show himself.

His hand was on the door handle when he turned. He was too indecisive to open the door. He could not stand there with his back bare though. But, when he looked around, nothing happened. He was sure he had felt a gaze on the back of his neck, causing him to feel alarmed.

He assured himself that he was feeling paranoid, turning back to the door. As he turned the door handle, he thought he heard something go by. He turned quickly, feeling a rush of adrenaline rise to his head. Surely he had imagined it, it was all in his head. He shook himself and stepped into his room. He was about to get undressed when the alarm suddenly went off.

“Alert! A RED Spy is in the base!” the woman announced.

“Oh no,” Andrew groaned, as he reached for the gun he kept in his room. It was a personal belonging meant for these kinds of situations.

Being already fully dressed made everything easier, as he charged off to find the Spy. How he would find an invisible man was beyond him. The French RED could be anywhere, or he could be anyone. He had fooled them before, and Andrew had regrettably killed his beloved Spy for it.

That thought made his face heat with frustration and embarrassment, mostly at himself. He still regretted shooting Jacques right in the face. He would never ever do that again.

“Solly!” he heard the Demoman call.

He turned and followed the Scotsman’s voice, his weapon ready to fire. He had an unsure aim though. When he turned the corner, he was not sure who to point to though, as all of his teammates were already gathered here in what made up a casual work out room.

“Who here is part of team BLU?” the Heavy spoke up, in a raspy growl.

Everybody raised their hands. After a moment, Andrew realized that he was supposed to respond to this question, and quickly raised his hand. He felt his face become a bit flush with embarrassment.

“There is one phony in here,” the Engineer spoke up, “And I don’t know about you fellas, but I’m not too keen on another mutiny.”

Andrew turned his eyes to the floor. That had been his fault. All of the chaos that day he shot the Spy had revolved around his piss poor behavior, he was sure. If he had thought through things a bit more, he probably would have known that it was Jacques all along and not the RED Spy. He might have even noticed that the Scout was not really the Scout.

“Man’s probably not here, Engie,” Demo argued, “I say we split up in teams of two and search the area. That way no man goes alone!”

“You are suggesting we be paired?” Spy spoke up, “You think that would make you stand a better chance at not being ambushed?”

“Perhaps it would!” Demo nodded.

“I think is good idea,” Heavy nodded in agreement.

“You stick with me then,” Medic smacked the Heavy’s arm with the back of his hand.

“Engie, you an’ me man,” Demo patted the shorter man’s shoulder. The Engineer gave him a disgruntled look for that.

“Solly! Let’s go find this guy!” Scout quickly took to Andrew’s side.

The Soldier looked over at Spy, but he was already paired up with the Sniper. He looked tired though, with a disheveled look in his eyes. Even the way his cigarette was held in his mouth spoke of how miserable he was. He wondered what his hair must be like under that balaclava, whether he had it styled already, or if it was as bedraggled as his eyes appeared to be.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Scout cheered.

Andrew followed begrudgingly. He had not had any sleep tonight and he was loathing it. Having been thinking about the bed made his entire body ache, if only for a wink of sleep. Now he would have to trudge all around the base until morning, only to hope for an hour’s sleep sometime in the early morning hours.

“You ain’t no Spy though, right?” Scout suddenly asked, as they made their way down a hall.

Andrew cocked his gun, while blinking sleepiness out of his eyes, “No!”

“Yea? Well…good,” Scout sighed with relief.

They made their way throughout the halls. They checked every nook and cranny that they knew of. Scout even went up into areas that the other mercenaries would not or could not reach. Andrew doubted a Spy would go up there, but he let the boy have his way. He was too tired to argue at an hour and a half past midnight.

They passed the others from time to time. The Heavy and Medic did not look like they were searching very hard. Heavy was looking around sleepily, as he lumbered next to the chatterbox of a Medic. Engineer was looking very paranoid, while the Demoman looked completely bored of walking around and searching. Pyro wandered around alone, surprisingly. The fire starter had not even made a sound when they paired off, and had ended up alone. They waved when they passed Scout and Soldier, and proceeded to burn the air around the hallway to check for any Spies in the area.

When Andrew and Scout wandered into the recreation room, it was three in the morning. What an exhausting day. It had only been three hours into the day and they were already working themselves when they should be sleeping.

“He has probably gone,” the Soldier turned to Scout.

The boy nodded, rubbing his eyes sleepily, “Yea, you’re probably right.”

“Have we seen the Sniper and Spy?” he asked, curious as to why he did not see the pair pass them by.

“Nuh uh,” Scout shook his head, “Maybe they’re taking some special route that only Spy knows about.”

Andrew pursed his lips with thought. He had not thought about this before, but that sounded like something smart that a Spy would do. Spy would never tell them where secret passage ways were, unless he absolutely had to. Any one of them could blabber about the secret way and blow its cover.

Suddenly, the Pyro made some noise. They both turned to see the suited person standing in the door way. They were motioning to them, beckoning for them to come out into the hallway. There was something the two needed to see.

Andrew shrugged when Scout looked to him. The spry youth took the lead, heading out of the door before the Soldier. Pyro disappeared with the Scout, and when Soldier stepped into the hallway they were gone.

Andrew blinked the sleepiness away as fast as he could. What had happened? Had he gone mad? Where was he? The flush of confusion wafted over him and made the room feel like it was spinning. He did not know what was happening, or if something had happened.

He quickly turned to look at the clock, only to find that it had not changed its numbers. Surely there was a mistake, as Scout and Pyro disappearing so fast had to mean he had gone a bit crazy for a few minutes. Even a single minute would have sufficed for his brain to remove itself from what was going on around him.

He followed his feet down the hallway, shivering against the chilled air. It was colder at night than it was during the day. He could even hear a faint patter of rain outside. He did not want to go back out there now, not while it was raining and wet.

The rain would likely make for a tiring and difficult day of work. They would be stuck fighting the mud, while fighting the REDs. They would slip and slide and fight to keep their skin clean and dry. It would be a nightmare, even for those who did not care how dirty they got.

He was just about to round a corner when something hit him in the back of his head. He cried out in pain, then instinctively called out for the Medic. He reeled, spinning to face his attacker, only to land a face-full of glass. The world went dark and he was finally asleep.

 

He heard something. It was somebody breathing, it was his own breathing. Before he could stir much, figure out what was holding his wrists with such pain, he heard a soft voice. A pair of gloved fingers snapped, before the voice became clearer.

“Are you awake?” the voice was clearly foreign, by the enunciation of the words. Andrew was too tired and drowsy to make out just what kind of voice it was though. “Come on, I don’t have all day,” the voice encouraged him.

He slowly opened his eyes to see a masked man in front of his face. It was a RED masked man. Even through drowsy bleary eyes, he could see the man’s malicious smirk.

“You!” he exclaimed, unable to do much in a coherent manner.

“Yes me,” the Spy leaned against what looked like a table.

A quick glance around revealed that this was a small supply closet in the back of the base. It was used for the overstock supplies, like bagged and canned foods and other things like that. Nobody would come in here for at least another week. Scout and Soldier had come to check this room early in their search, but had found nothing.

“I hope you are comfortable,” the Spy said, “You’re going to be here for a while.”

Andrew struggled with the ropes on his wrists. They were burning his skin, as they rubbed him the wrong way. His legs were bound too, tied to the legs of a chair around the knees and ankles.

“What do you want with me?” he growled, turning his head up.

The Spy reached over and lifted the helmet off. Feeling kind of exposed made Andrew feel embarrassed, and almost a bit intimidated. Having the helmet on his head felt like a surefire way to keep his noggin from distress and injury. He would not let a Spy know that though.

“You REDs can’t just stick to your usual winnings?” he growled angrily.

“No,” the RED responded, which surprised Andrew, “I could care less nowadays.”

“You are a lying menace!” Andrew raised his voice, hoping somebody might hear him, without him calling for help.

“If the Administrator cared about us winning, she would have fired you all long ago,” the Spy explained, briefly, “But, never mind that. What is important is that you stay out of my way today.”

“How come?” Soldier growled.

“That’s my business,” the Spy chuckled, “And you’ll just have to deal with it!”

He placed Andrew’s helmet back on his head and proceeded to put his cigarette out on top of it. Spy let the ashes fall wildly onto Andrew’s lap.

“You’ll probably get dehydrated,” the Spy noted, “But, you’ll be fine. I’ll be back by the end of the work day.”

“You cannot do this!” Andrew exclaimed, “My coworkers will notice I am missing! They will come and look for me! And they are looking for you!”

The Spy chuckled, “They gave up looking for me hours ago.” He paused to light a cigarette, blowing out the smoke like he was having a fun time. “And you told them yourself that you were fine, after a _run in_ with me.”

“I did not!” Andrew retorted, angrily. He struggled against his restraints, wishing he could grab the Spy and hit him.

“You did,” the Spy lowered himself at the waist, coming down to his level.

The man’s hands were busy though, pulling out one of his electronic tools. When they came face to face, it was like Andrew was looking in a mirror. His own face was expressing horror, but the one he was looking at held a big stupid smile.

“Your friends will not miss you!” it was Andrew’s own voice coming from the Spy, in that robotic form of military-esque behavior, “Your coworkers will not miss you! You will not be missed on the battlefield at this time!”

“You’re wrong!” Andrew argued, watching as the Spy stomped off through the door, “They’ll know it’s you!”

The Spy returned to his captive with a rag in hand. He shoved it into the Soldier’s mouth, stuffing it in like an apple into a pig’s snout. He held over his mouth with one hand, using his other hand and teeth to pull out some duct tape. He used the tape on Andrew’s mouth, keeping the rag inside of his mouth.

“I think that they won’t know the difference,” he patted Andrew’s shoulder before he left.

He listened to the Spy chuckling as he left. When the chuckling and footsteps faded, he was left to his own maddening thoughts. If he was missing, the Spy could throw the whole team off balance. Eventually though, they had to figure it out. But what if they did not figure it out in time? And what if Spy did not realize that the Soldier he would approach was not his lover, but a fake? What if the RED Spy tricked him?

Panic filled him as he struggled in the chair. He had to break it. He had to break free. He had to go warn his lover. Of all the people, Jacques was his greatest worry at the moment. He could not let the RED Spy fool him.

Tell him to be worried for the BLU Spy a couple of months ago and he would have laughed in your face. Everything was simple back then. He was equally worried for each mercenary, even the one he had some odd little crush on. But now, everything was thrown out of place, and he was not sure which Frenchman to blame for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop writing at one am. This is getting embarrassing.  
> I might not have mentioned that I have an addiction problem; I'm addicted to writing.


	18. Violets are BLU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is tied up where nobody can find him, but nobody is missing him. Will Spy be fooled?

Spy was groggy when he stumbled into the respawn room. Everybody was grouchy, and nobody wanted to be here. Even the cheeriest Engineer could not keep up his usual peachy attitude.

Nobody there wanted to go to bed more than Spy. That was, other than Soldier, he was sure. He glanced over at the other man and saw him standing erect and ready. That was not unlike his posture, except that he was already holding it in the respawn. He usually did not get quite cranked up and ready for the fight until he had had his morning coffee. Given that the Scout had broken that, having been in a hurry to get some caffeine in his system, nobody was getting coffee.

“Are you feeling alright, Soldier?” Spy asked, cautiously. He knew better than to bring attention to Andrew’s problems.

“Never better!” the Soldier lied through gritted teeth.

He paused to think about a better way to approach this. Confronting him head on would have to wait until after the match, but he needed to be sure that Andrew was okay now. Once the match begun, they would be flung out into fighting.

He shook the thoughts from his mind. The worries should not bother him so much. They were mercenaries, and this was work. He was feeling troubled because he felt something so much more for Andrew, but this was just another day of work as always. There was no point in dragging out the worry that would create more stress for him.

“What do you think he got away with?” the Demoman’s conversation with the Medic caught his ear.

“I don’t know,” Medic whispered to the Scotsman, as he pulled on his white coat, “All I know is that he didn’t touch our intelligence.”

“That’s a load if I’ve ever heard it,” Demo shook his head.

“Ask the Engineer!” Medic whispered, with a shake of his head, “He’s the one who told me.”

“And you’re sure the man’s not the Spy?” Demo asked, suspiciously.

“Now that you say that, I’m not sure,” Medic said, with a tone of worry.

“Team not worry so much,” Heavy announced loudly, “We focus on job. Then we talk after. Okay?”

He must have been listening to that little conversation too. The two took it to heart and shut their mouths, while they went about getting ready for the day’s battle. It was unlikely that they would start up another conversation until later that evening, after the fighting was over.

“Oy mate!” Sniper called over to the Spy, “Did you figure out your shit, you were talking about last night?”

Spy frowned, but he nodded. He hated when Sniper forgot that he was around other people. It was times like these that he wanted to pull the man aside to have a private word with him. He did precisely that the night before.

After just twenty minutes of searching for the enemy Spy, Sniper had started asking him about the Soldier. When the questions became too personal, Spy had taken him aside. After a bit of testing of what Sniper knew and would handle knowing, he had decided against telling him the whole truth. All he told him was that he was trying to figure some things out in his life. He kept it all very vague, and Sniper had lectured him about how he was needed on the team, and that it was important for him to figure this out, for the good of the team.

Sniper nodded to him, with a glad smile, “Good show, mate.” He looked over to the shoulder, with a raised eyebrow. “You’re bushy tailed this morning,” he noted.

“I would say the same about you, Sniper?” Spy wanted to put himself between Sniper and Soldier, instinctively.

Sniper smirked at him, “I keep my own stash in the camper. I brew mine the old fashioned way.” He snickered at the thought, as the realization donned on Spy and a few others who had heard.

“You couldn’t have been a pal and shared some of that?” Demoman moaned with despair.

“Sorry mates, didn’t realize the little wanker left your coffee pot on the fritz,” Sniper chuckled, as he motioned to the Scout.

“Hey! Shut up!” Scout exclaimed.

“Relax Scout,” Spy turned his attention away from Sniper with a shake of his head.

“Everyone!” the Engineer announced. He had turned from something on blue paper he was studying. When he finally earned some silence, he finally spoke again, “I been lookin’ over the results of our past few battles and I have noticed a pattern. And I think we’ve got ourselves a plan here.”

“Well? Share it!” Demo demanded.

“Out with it!” Medic exclaimed.

“Their main strength seems to be picking us off fast,” Engineer explained, “Medic and Heavy last the best because they team up every time. You’re weakest to their Spy though. I think if we start up a buddy system, we’ll be able to defend ourselves better.”

“What? We can’t handle their guys alone now?” Scout exclaimed, defensively.

“Negatory!” the Soldier declared loudly, “They are just a bunch of dirty REDs! They don’t know the meaning of war! We’ll simply pound them into a fine red dust and leave them crying to their mommies!”

“That’s nice, Soldier,” Engineer nodded off the man’s suggestion, “But I think we ought to try a buddy system. Every person gets a pair. One pair should have an additional person for backup though.”

“Medic and I are good team. Is good idea,” the Heavy nodded in agreement.

“Who would be the best teams though?” Medic asked.

“The way I see it, we won’t know until we try any of them,” Engineer explained, “But if it’s all the same to you folks, I’d like to take the Pyro as my partner.”

“Why Pyro?” Demo asked, “Was gonna offer we’d be partners, pal!”

“Pyro can help me defend my buildings and check for Spies,” Engineer explained, “I’m most vulnerable to them.”

“Well, what about me then?” Demo asked, with a sad look on his face.

There was a long silence, while everybody tried to decide who they were teaming up with. Spy had already decided who he was teaming up with. As silly as it was, teaming up with the Sniper was the best choice for him. It would be a chance for him to hang out with his friend some more. In better circumstances, Soldier would be his choice, but he did not want people getting any ideas.

“I will team up with Spy!” the Soldier barked.

He reeled, turning to look at Soldier with disbelief. Andrew was not that stupid. Andrew would not be so ridiculously stupid that he would jeopardize their relationship and any of their other friendships for a chance to pair up.

“Fine, so Solly and Spy,” Engineer said dismissively.

“Wait, how would that work?” Scout rounded on the Soldier, “You rocket jump everywhere, and he’s sneaking everywhere. That wouldn’t work for you.”

“I think the only people who could keep up with the Soldier are Scout and Demoman,” Medic added, “I can hardly keep up to you, with all the rocket jumping you do.”

“I will stick with the Spy!” the Soldier replied, with a hearty harrumph.

“If you insist upon it,” Spy gave him a hesitant and questioning look. He felt the Sniper’s gaze on the side of his head though. “Though, I very much believe you will be hindering my work.”

“Nonsense! You will learn to do spying work like a real American would do it!” Soldier said with a big cocky grin.

Spy furrowed his brow. Was Andrew acting out? Or perhaps this was just him trying to put on a show for the others while trying to get time with Spy himself. Surely there was more to it than that. Surely he had thought about this beforehand.

Of course, Andrew did not always think about the things coming out of his mouth. Sometimes he did not even know what he said before he says it. Sometimes he would even ask Spy to repeat what he said, with the most dumbfounded look on his face when he was told what he had said. The man was not always in cognitive control of his words. Perhaps this was one of those moments.

“Demoman?” Spy turned to the Scotsman, hopeful that he might take the Soldier off of his shoulders. As much as he would love to spend time with Andrew, he had a legitimate reason to avoid the loud and obnoxious American during his sneaky work.

“I’ll do it!” Scout stepped forward. He had a big cocky grin on his face, eager to spend some time with the man he put on a metaphorical pedestal.

“Nah, you can work with me, Scout,” Sniper stepped forward and grabbed the boy’s arm gently.

“What the hell!” the Scout protested, pulling his arm away.

“Let these two hang out on the battlefield,” Sniper gave Spy a taunting look. It was a sneaky almost cheeky grin. It made Spy very angry, “It’s not like they don’t get enough of that.”

Spy frowned at him, wishing he could reach out and stab him in the neck. How he would love to give him a little bit of backlashing pain at that moment. However, he kept himself calm and collected in front of the entirety of the team.

“If you insist on mocking me, very well,” Spy said, coolly, “But, I have conditions.” He turned to the Soldier, who clicked his boots together in an attentive form of straightening his posture.

Even since they had been together, he had not known Andrew to be responsive like this. The man was obnoxious and crude, but only to a fault. His shy and gentle nature beneath the surface usually made him calmer when he responded to certain teammates, such as the Scout and Spy himself – as of late.

Perhaps this was time to pull Soldier aside and find out what was really going on. If something was up, he needed to find out what it was, before he lost control of the situation. If this was some sort of problem Andrew was having, then he needed to learn of it, so that he could learn how to handle it.

“Ten…nine…eight…” the countdown had already begun.

“See you on the battlefield partners,” the Engineer plopped his hardhat on his head and picked up a box of metal to haul off.

Medic turned to the Heavy Weapons Expert, turning on his medigun to get it up to charge. All the while, he started chatting with the Heavy, as if the man understood things about biology and mathematical theorem. Still, the Heavy would listen with quiet patience.

Spy turned his attention away from Andrew, as he normally would, while still keeping him in the corner of his eye. Soldier on the other hand, was giving him his full attention. It was obvious too, as he turned squarely and focused all of his body language on Spy. It was exhaustingly exasperating, being in front of the entire team, with this man driving his full unwanted attention at Spy. At least, this was not the situation in which Spy wanted the man’s attention.

“…three…two…one!” the countdown ended and the gates opened. It was time for them to be off to collect the intelligence.

Spy waited for several mercenaries to leave first so that he could sneak out. He ignored the Soldier as he slipped out the gate, keeping him in the corner of his eye. He turned on his cloaking watch and slipped into the shadows to go around the back way, the way the others would not be going.

He was surprised that Andrew knew this way around. In fact, the man should have been confused as to where Spy had gone at all. Yet, he seemed to know that Spy would take this route. Perhaps he had gotten in too much of a routine, that seeing him go a certain way so many times for so many years had made it easy for even the Soldier to track his movements.

Spy stopped behind an old rusty cart. They were in the dimly lit quiet, nearby one of the cameras. If something were to happen, it would be on camera. If nothing else, he could steal some footage to see what it was that had happened.

He halted and turned to face the Soldier, who stopped and stood rigidly. His eyes were hidden beneath his helmet, but his expression was clearly questioning. Still, he stood rigidly still, like a statue.

“What are you doing?” Spy demanded.

“I am sticking by your side!” Soldier said, in a military-esque fashion, “That is what I said I would do! So I am doing it!”

“No, what are you doing?” Spy pressed. He gave him a narrow eyed glare for emphasis.

The Soldier did not seem dissuaded by this. That was odd, as Andrew usually grew awkward and shy when Spy gave him a glare. The man was more responsive lately than ever to eye contact.

“I am sticking to the plan!” the Soldier announced with a nod.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Spy shook his head with disappointment, “Because I would say you are doing the opposite of that.”

“You heard Engie and Medic in there!” the Soldier argued, ‘I am supposed to stick with you! Buddy system!”

Spy licked his lips slowly. He was trying to analyze the situation and decide how best to deal with it. At this point, the RED Spy could be along at any moment to catch them together. The RED Spy could come along and mess things up, even try to kill the BLU Soldier.

“You should have paired with Scout,” he said, with disappointment laden on his tongue.

“You don’t have to be such a sissy!” the Soldier announced, “Let’s go forward! We’ll drive back these REDs into the next century! And then we’ll send their heads home to their families in boxes! I’d love to see their foreign faces when they find that an American stamped box has delivered to them American Eagle justice!”

Spy stared with disbelief. These sounded like things that Andrew would yell if he were rocket jumping across the battlefield. It sounded like something he might say to taunt the REDs. These were not things he would say to his teammates. Andrew did not behave this way with friends, only with enemies.

“Very well then,” Spy stepped aside, motioning for the Soldier to move along. He glanced up at the camera, taking a mental note of which camera to collect footage from. “After you.”

The Soldier marched forward, passing Spy without a second thought. Forgive me, Spy thought as he brought his butterfly knife down on what was supposed to be the Soldier’s back. It sliced at muscle in the lower back, as the person launched away. The familiar outcry of the RED Spy responded to the strike. The familiar clicking of a switchblade caught his ears. He was quick to catch the other man’s arm before he could bring a knife to his neck.

“This is a low tactic,” BLU Spy said, curtly.

RED Spy switched to French, “Tactic? For war? No. This isn’t for war. Today is my day off from this usual work, my friend. No. Instead, I’m working for the Administra-” He was cut off as the BLU tried to slash at him, forced to fend off the attack. “The Administrator sends her best regards,” the RED parried a few times, before he backed himself out of reach.

BLU lurched forward, trying to get a catch at the RED’s suit and flesh. He stumbled over a railroad tie, which gave the RED enough time to counter. The man lurched at him, sending him backwards in a flurry of parries and other self-defense moves. They moved back and forth like this, each one trying to gain some ground for themselves.

It was quite a while before the BLU Spy decided that they were equally matched. At this point, it was about who had more stamina, who could slip first, or who would give up. Neither one of them wanted to lose, mostly on principle. There was something to be earned from beating one’s own counterpart. But being beat by one’s own counterpart was something shameful in a strange way. If BLU was beat by RED, then he would have to admit that to some degree he was somehow the lesser of the two Spies. He would never ever say that, and he would never ever believe that.

At some point, he managed to draw his pistol, but so had the RED Spy. The two tried to get shots at each other, each one using the barrel of his gun to deflect the other’s aim. Throw in the spare hand for each of them and they got a near-full tango. When the bullets ran out, they tossed their guns away and returned to knives. They were moving so fast now that they could not even focus on reloading weapons, they had to just keep moving with the rhythm of their battle.

RED caught his face with a fist, damaging everything right below the right eye. He would likely have swelling over the eye itself that would make seeing a bit difficult. BLU retaliated with a slice into his shoulder, digging the ending inch of the blade across his lower neck. He barely missed the jugular though, and as the other man ducked behind a barrel he grabbed up a needle and shoved it into his arm without a second thought.

BLU stared at him, horrified at what he had just seen. But, the wound on the RED’s neck started healing, as if he was fixated on by a medigun. He did not heal all the way up, but whatever was in that needle seemed to take care of the majority of the injury, and definitely clotted the bleeding. His dumbfounded expression seemed to give the RED Spy some added macho though.

“You didn’t think I came unprepared, did you?” the RED Spy mocked, laughing all the while. He came at the BLU with his knife drawn.

BLU Spy darted to the side, rounding on his enemy from a different angle, “You’re pathetic to think you could slip into our ranks and fool anybody with a costume of the Soldier. You’re even more foolish to have picked the Soldier!”

He reveled as his mind wrapped around that. The RED Spy thought he knew Andrew well enough to disguise as him. He thought he knew Andrew well enough to fool his whole team, which he almost had, but BLU Spy knew the man so much more intimately.

It was why he never disguised as the RED Medic around the RED Heavy, or the RED Heavy around the RED Medic. No matter how well he knew those men for disguises, each man knew his lover well. Disguising as either of them near somebody who knew them so intimately, while they were armed and dangerous was just a request for trouble.

And here the RED Spy thought he knew what the BLU Soldier was like. He thought he could get away with the Soldier’s usual macho behavior on the battlefield that was him being a soldier at heart. He thought he could get away with acting like that around a man who knew him so intimately.

BLU Spy smirked, “I know my own teammates much better than you give me credit for.”

“Yea? Well…it seems you are obviously taken…with this Soldier,” the RED Spy commented.

“What?” his moment of being stunned gave the RED some room to strike at him, but when his knife missed, he struck with his fist. The blow landed in BLU Spy’s ribs.

RED came at him with the knife again, but BLU grabbed his wrist. He brought his arm up and lurched at him with his own knife. The RED Spy was equally fast and caught his arm. Both of them struggled, trying to fight for the upper hand. They were equally matched in strength, so as they stood there, pushing against each other, they struggled to be the one to remain on their feet the longest.

“This will only hurt for a moment,” RED Spy stepped into him. The man attempted to relieve his wrist of BLU’s grip, but he would not let go.

He was going to copy the movement, but thought better of it. An opportunity presented himself, as he raised his knee into the other man. The RED grunted loudly in pain, moving back away from him.

“You’ll never finish the job,” BLU promised, as he heard the loud hooting of a Scout. He knew the BLU Scout’s voice very well, as he came barreling this way.

“Incoming, chucklenuts!” the Scout roared, as he shot at the two Spies.

Of course the idiot thought it was a good idea to shoot at them. Instead of getting close enough to ambush the RED from behind, or distract him, the boy presented a new problem. Both of their legs were pelleted with bullets. They both acted in unison, with the same thought in mind. Their hands loosened grips and they stepped away from each other, reaching for the invis watches stashed in their pockets. It was just in time as more bullets came at their heads.

 

*********************************************************************

 

RED Spy stumbled to the BLU Engineer’s dispenser with a groan. He was disguised as the BLU Spy, who had gone in the opposite direction. He knew a moment of getting his leg fixed would not turn the Engineer’s head for more than a few questions. He would have thought up a better plan by now, on usual terms, but these were not usual terms. His goal was not to take down the BLU team and its sentries.

“Tired are ya?” the Engineer asked, glancing over his shoulder. The goggles hid his eyes but not the way he checked around warily. “Late night for all of us,” he nodded his head when he was sure that the RED Spy was not around.

The RED kept his distance, enough to hope that the Engineer did not catch on, “Wouldn’t have been a problem if we just let him get in and out. Our facilities do not assist us much in the way of defense against espionage anyways.”

“Not much we can do though,” Engineer argued, with a tired sigh, “Gotta do our jobs. On the job, on the clock, twenty-four hours a day, every day – that means even off the battlefield, son.”

The RED Spy grimaced at being called son. He had grown very used to the Engineer. The man was a talker, just as much as a listener. He knew many things about his coworkers, many things that would not be so easy for a Spy to find out, even a cunning Spy like himself. All it took was the right disguise with the right set of words and the Engineer could blab his own secrets.

“You seen that RED devil anywhere?” the BLU Engineer asked, his eyes darting around again.

“Not recently,” he lied. He had to refrain from chuckling.

“If you do, give him a good backstabbing from me,” the Engineer sent him a wry smirk, “Bastard kept us up ‘til about four in the morning, ya know. Dunno what got into Scout and Solly. But I’ll be beat if that bastard keeps me up that late and doesn’t get his backside kicked.”

“I’ll do my best,” the RED lied again.

“In the meantime,” the Engineer snickered, “Get back to your buddy, son. Solly’s probably freaking out right now.”

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Spy headed off towards the respawn, insinuating that the American Soldier had died.

He needed to get into the base soon. Of course, BLU Spy had probably already started telling his teammates that the RED Spy had fooled them. He would give it much more time than it would normally take, as most of the BLUs were busy trying to fight the REDs. He would have at least some time to sneak into the base, a way that even the BLUs were not aware of.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew lifted his head as he heard footsteps at the door. Despite his tired demeanor – exhaustion hit him harder after all of the struggling than it did during actual work – he started thrashing and shouting again, hoping one of his colleagues would hear him and rescue him. He did not care if he had to blubber his way through an explanation with embarrassment on his face.

The door opened and he looked up at the RED Spy. Disappointment hit him like a brick. He was sure at that point, BLU Spy would have relaxed and acted calmly and rationally. He would not show the RED that he was bothered at all by any of this. But, the Soldier was a much different case, and wanted to beat the RED to death. He started thrashing and tossing himself around. He tried to beat the chair’s legs in to free his appendages. He tried to yank his arms out from behind him.

“It’s no use struggling, mon ami,” the RED Spy approached with a canteen in hand. His free hand ripped the duct tape off and removed the saliva soaked rag. He tossed these aside as he tilted the canteen to Andrew’s mouth.

Andrew could barely think straight, and when the cold water hit his lip he could not resist it. He tilted his head back and accepted water, taking long deep gulps to wet his pallet and his throat. He had not realized how thirsty he was up until this point.

When the canteen pulled away, he licked his lips and growled. He glared at the Spy, though the man could no longer see his eyes. He wished he had his hands free so he could show them to the Spy in balled fists.

“What do you want with me? Why won’t you just kill me?” Andrew demanded.

“Relax, mon ami,” RED Spy smiled, in that charming sort of way that maybe all Frenchmen had, “I just have some questions for you.”

“I’m not your _mon ami_ ,” Andrew roared, angrily. He knew what those words meant and he would not let the RED have them over him.

“Would you prefer the gag?” Spy lifted the rag, as if he would stuff it back into Andrew’s mouth.

Andrew shut his mouth but made his discontent apparent. He could not snarl big enough though. He could not make his mouth move to such a contorted point that it expressed the full extent of his anger and hatred for the enemy Spy. He needed a better face for that.

“Good,” the RED Spy said, with a soft and patient tone.

He backed up and leaned against the table. He rested one leg, bending it at the knee. His arms crossed over his chest, as he gave Andrew a pensive look. The apprehension of this interrogation was starting to get to Andrew though, he might as well spew everything he knew about anything.

“Tell me, what do you call the BLU Spy?” he asked, with cautious patience in his words.

Andrew bit his lip and thought about this. He thought long and hard about this, not wanting to give a bad answer. He needed to give an answer as good as the BLU Spy would give. He had to be completely cautious about this.

“I just call him the Spy,” he finally said. He straightened up his posture, puffing out his chest, despite the twinge of pain in his back. This was not a good chair to be sitting on for long periods of time. “No man in this facility hands out his name! And that is the best way to handle this war, around damned Spies like you!” he growled with disdain in his voice.

The Spy sighed with irritation, “So you just call him Spy?”

“Yes I do!” the Soldier barked at him, “What Spy would go by any other name?”

“Very well,” the RED rolled his eyes. He turned from Andrew, looking at the stock of flour nearby. “What kind of friend is he to you?” he asked, with a soft tone.

Friend? Andrew wanted to laugh. They were beyond friends at this point. They had not gotten to certain points that he would like to reach, but they were going in that direction at least. There was no other friend who would go this far with Andrew. After all, what normal friend smacks lips with his pal, with such a hungry craving as the Spy had?

“We are not friends, me and Spy,” Andrew growled, “We are colleagues! Mercenaries!” Good Andrew, keep your distance from him, he mentally patted himself on the back.

“Then why do you spend so much personal time with the Spy?” the RED came back with a raised eyebrow. The questioning gaze did not catch Andrew up.

“Each man is worth his mettle,” Andrew stated, “And I would be damned if I did not offer my time to each one to get to know their own personal strategies!”

“What about the Sniper?” the RED asked. There was something coy in his voice and his petty smirk.

“Sniper is a solitary man,” Andrew nodded, assuring himself, “He is solitary, but a good fighter!”

“Erm…Heavy?” the RED was reaching now.

“Heavy is quiet, keeps to himself, doesn’t seek me out,” Andrew responded, “If you are going to question me about each of my teammates, then you’re going to find this is going to be a very long day!”

“Yes, I see,” the RED replied, his face completely placid and unamused.

Andrew had a small grin on his face though. He felt like he was winning. This game they were playing was dangerous, but a little fun since he was doing such a good job. He just had to keep the RED Spy running for his money in his questioning.

“You’re a heterosexual man, Mr. Swanson?” the Spy interrupted his cheery thoughts.

He frowned, taken aback. Mr. Swanson was his father, his uncle, and his grandfather. He had not been called that by more than a handful of people and that had been long ago. All of the people who had ever called him Mr. Swanson were either dead or Miss Pauling.

“My personal business is none of yours, Spy!” Andrew growled with disdain.

“Then you wouldn’t be bothered by naked pictures of men, would you?” Spy offered.

Andrew shied away, “What are you talking about?” He tried to play dumb, act as if he did not understand it.

“I’m a man of many talents,” the Spy explained, with a small smirk, “And photography happens to align well with Spying. Perhaps…you’d like to see what Spy is like underneath his suit?”

Andrew flinched, his mind going back to Jacques’ hands and arms when they were bare. Then his mind went to the man’s toned torso. A slim but strongly muscled man.

“I happen to have a copy right here,” Spy reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of photos.

“NO!” Andrew barked, flinching away and closing his eyes.

“You don’t want to see?” the Spy’s tone taunted him, “Or you’re afraid to see?”

“NO!” Andrew barked again, keeping his eyes shut. He should not see, not even a peek. He would not look at the BLU Spy until BLU Spy wanted him to.

“Just take a look,” the RED urged him.

“Not even!” Andrew barked, raising his voice.

“Oh but his lover is probably more attractive, don’t you think?” the RED asked.

Andrew flinched, his eyelids popping open. His eyes landed upon the photo the man was sharing with him, and all he could say was “Oh.” It was a familiar picture, one the BLU Spy had brought in. The masked man in the picture wore nothing but a red balaclava and the woman with dark hair.

Spy chuckled, amused by Andrew’s response. He tucked the picture away for later. “Ahh, how I miss her,” the Spy mused, with a soft and almost somber voice. It was the tone of a man who truly missed love.

“Who was she?” Andrew asked.

Spy pulled the cigarette from his mouth, “The love of my life, and the light of my soul. Of course, your Scout will always have her in loving memory, but in a different way.”

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” Andrew stated. If memory served him right, Scout’s mother had passed away over twenty years ago. If memory served him right, that woman had been near a hundred years old.

“Things do not always work out when you’ve lost that one love,” the Spy said, strolling into the doorway with his back facing the Soldier.

Andrew turned his eyes to the floor. He tried to imagine what life would be like if he lost the Spy. He could not imagine it. His life would be sad and lonely. Even if he surrounded himself with a hundred good friends, half drinking buddies and half guys who wanted to have a personable conversation, he still would be lonely. Even if he found somebody who really wanted him, who really wanted to commit to him, he would not be able to love like he loved Spy, he was sure of that.

“Love’s got a way of working things out,” Spy interrupted his train of thought, “In the end, we give away our weaknesses in the most strangest ways.”

Andrew turned his head up to look at the Spy with confusion. He scrunched his brow as he tried to think on what he meant by it. Perhaps there was some sort of riddle there, or a secret meaning. If it had a double meaning, then he did not know what the first meaning was.

“You can rest easy knowing the BLU team did their best today, even without their Soldier,” the Spy stated firmly, “And I’ll be back for you at the end of the day.”

“End of the day? Isn’t it the end already?” Andrew pleaded. He wanted the work day to be over so he could escape.

“No,” the door slammed shut, leaving Andrew in complete darkness and silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it came to my attention that there were two scenes where Andrew asked Spy's permission to call him Jacques. I did not even catch that.  
> Frankly, I'm keeping them both. Andrew has a lot of problems and it would be within his character to forget about the first time. It gives a different interpretation to Spy's response to the second time he asked him.  
> [referring to scenes in chapter 9 & 12]


	19. Let’s End the Streak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLU Spy is livid, and he is packing for revenge. Demo's a bit keener than most drunks, so he tags along for what is the start of a new determination for BLU's win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my scheduling for posting this is all wonky. Sorry I don't do this steadily. I have gotten a lot of inspiration for it, and lately I have been stuck tending to an injured family member. So, my time has been spent writing this.  
> Also a dog bit my hand...so I'm down to one hand for typing.

It had all been a devious little ploy. BLU Spy had almost fell for it. And it was probably going the way RED Spy had planned too. No matter what BLU Spy did, RED Spy always had his back up plans. They were evenly matched, but the BLU had no plans for such a ploy and how to counter it.

He lit another cigarette as he rushed into respawn. He was frustrated and angry. He did not care about winning the match anymore, he wanted to go find Andrew. But he could not get back into the living quarters to go find him. Unless he had been stashed away somewhere on the battlefield. He thought that to be unlikely since the Spy had joined them before the gates opened.

The Demoman respawned just in time for Spy to catch him, “Demo! Wait!” he reached out and grabbed the man’s arm.”

“I’m late, lad! I have to get back over there!” Demo protested.

“Wait wait!” Spy held tighter to his arm, “Do you know of a way inside? Another way?”

He pointed to the door, which was on automated lockdown. It was the door they used to get into respawn every work morning. The only other entrance to the respawn was the single gate that let them out into the battlefield. That gate was always locked during the off hours, allowing the Administrator the countdown she did every time she started up their work day.

“Nah,” Demo shook his head, “But we better be going. Getting inside might get you in trouble. Don’t be tryin’ nothing, Spook!”

“I have to find A- Soldier!” he managed to correct himself just in time.

“Ain’t he out on the field? I ain’t seen ‘im,” Demo quirked an eyebrow, “Who’s killed the bastard?”

“Nobody! At least…I hope not,” Spy felt a bit flustered as he began to worry for Andrew. He had no idea where he was or what condition he was in.

“Don’t worry about him,” Demo shook his head again, “Don’t worry about a buddy system. You work best alone, right? Go stab that darned Sniper, he’s givin’ me problems!”

“Soldier has not been out on the battlefield at all today,” Spy argued, “He hasn’t been with us at all today.”

“What are you saying? What about this morning? I saw him team up with you!” Demo pointed at him.

“That wasn’t the Soldier,” Spy shook his head, his tone turning dark, “It was the RED Spy in his place.”

“The RED Spy?” Demo’s eyes widened a bit with disbelief.

“He played us,” Spy nodded, “But, he did not get far.”

“What the bloody- what was he trying to pull? He didn’t even stab a one of us!” Demo exclaimed, his voice growing in pitch with disbelief.

“I do not know,” Spy sighed, “But it means that our Soldier is likely locked inside the main base. He’s not been around or seen by anyone, as far as I have found. Even Engineer has not seen him.”

“You explained what happened to ‘em? On a battlefield?” Demo sounded a bit humored at that suggestion.

Spy shook his head, “Nobody has the time to listen. But, listen, we hafta-”

“Noooo,” Demo shook his head, shushing Spy, “If he’s in there, he’s likely having a nap! Don’t worry! He’ll be fine on his own, lad! There’s no need for fretting!”

“I- y-you don’t know that,” Spy argued.

“Aye,” Demo shrugged, nodding slowly, “But he’s in the base. What’s the worst that could be happening?”

“We don’t know what the RED Spy has done,” he took on a tone of warning, “This man is meticulous. He would have put the Soldier somewhere he wouldn’t be found. Somewhere none of us would find him or see him. And if that is the case, then we should be worried. Considering the fact that the RED Spy managed to get into the BLU respawn should be troubling enough.”

“How could he do that?” Demo scratched his head through the cap.

“RED members cannot access our respawn except during humiliation rounds,” Spy explained, “The only other alternative is to get in before the lockdown on RED members, when we are assembling before countdown.”

“What? So he opened the bloody gate before we went in there?” the Demo asked, with a disbelieving scoff.

“No no,” Spy raised a hand defensively, “He was there last night, in the main base with us. That was his ploy all along. He never stole intelligence. I’ll bet it was him playing as the Soldier who told us that he killed the Spy.”

“Makes sense,” Demo rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully.

“What’s worse, is that he not only stayed through the night to slip in through our door, he had access to our base while we were asleep,” Spy explained.

“How can he do that? Isn’t there an alarm for that?” Demo scrunched his brow, with concern.

“Only if the cameras see him,” Spy explains, “But if they think he is the Soldier, then anybody watching those monitors would be fooled.”

“So Administrator would be fooled,” Demoman chuckled at the thought.

Spy nodded, “Indeed. This means that the RED Spy had plenty of access to our colleague. He could have stashed him anywhere. He would have to, or risk us finding him.”

“I…” Demoman sighed, shaking his head. He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought it through. “Look, lad,” he spoke a bit more slowly, “Can I be honest with ya?”

Spy gave him a suspicious look, but nodded all the same. He was not about to hold the Demo back from being honest, if it meant the team could start searching for their Soldier.

“I know…I mean I…I know about you and the Soldier,” the Demoman explained.

“What?” Spy gave him a deadpan look.

He figured the man thought the others did not know about his and Soldier’s friendship. Given the way people looked at the Spy and thought of the Spy, him having a friend was probably supposed to be some sort of secret that they were not supposed to reveal that they knew about. Such trivial matters to deal with, nevertheless, Spy would deal with them swiftly.

“I mean, I know!” he was gesturing and making dramatic expressions.

Spy frowned, “Everybody knows.”

“Uh…eh?” Demo furrowed his brow with worry.

“The Soldier and I are friends,” Spy admitted, “Everybody is aware of this. Yes? You’re caught up on this?”

“No,” the man had a grave tone in his voice, “Look, mate. You can fool the others, but you cannot fool me. Not at this point.”

“What are you talking about?” Spy furrowed his brow into a glare.

“You and the Soldier,” he paused, looking around to make sure nobody had yet respawned while they were talking, “You’re a thing now, right?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Spy blinked, taken aback and frightened.

“You and Soldier are dating?” Demo offered, a bit more lightly this time.

Spy gave him a flabbergasted look. Surely he could not have guessed on his own. After every meticulous precaution Spy had taken, Demo could not possibly know. That was, unless Andrew had said or done something while they were drinking together.

“And no, yer boyfriend didn’t tell me,” Demo said, giving him a knowing look, “And neither did he want to. He’s been bouncin’ around the subject for a couple weeks now. Tryin’a keep us off of his back. But, I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were,” Spy said, in a deadpan tone.

“Don’t act like I couldn’t have known,” Demo said, sternly, “If’n you weren’t the suave type, I would have pegged you earlier. I wouldn’t have believed it was you with Soldier…but you two been spending a lot of time together.”

“What do you want?” Spy glared at him, with a look of warning.

“I don’t want nothing, laddie,” Demoman insisted, “I only needed clarification. And now, I need you to come out and help us push through RED base!”

“Not until I find out what the RED Spy did with Andrew,” Spy insisted.

Demo hesitated, giving him a look. His jaw moved side to side as he thought about it. Finally he nodded, as if satisfied with the decision.

“Alright, I’ll help you. But we aren’t getting in until the round is over,” Demoman explained.

“What do we do? Just leave him?” Spy asked, pleading softly.

“We’ll have to finish the round then, lad,” Demo sighed, “If we win the match we end it. If we lose the match RED ends it.”

He pointed to the door, just as the BLU Scout respawned. He glared at the two of them.

“Hey! Let’s go! Let’s go! Move it!” Scout shouted at them, as he reloaded his pockets with ammunition.

“Let’s get that intel, mate!” Demoman grabbed a few extra stickies, tucking them into his satchel before he charged off.

Spy followed after him, hurrying to keep up with the two faster men. Demoman had long legs that made him quite the athlete across long distances, and Scout was the team’s speed demon. By the time they reached the others, his lungs were burning. It did not help that he had spent so much of his life smoking, his lungs burned more now than any cigarette had ever burned him.

He was trying to catch his breath when he caught red in the corner of his eye. Adrenaline shot through his body, causing him to flinch and stand erect. He turned to face the danger, but was too late as an uber saw cut through him. He cried out in pain but mostly roared in frustration.

Spy respawned running. He did not pause to reload his gun, as he did not intend to use it. He just checked for his invis watch and headed for the best spot to slip into the RED team’s ranks. He slipped past the beeping sentry, completely unseen by it or its Engineer. He slipped into the RED base, headed straight for the intelligence.

He glanced at his watch to find that it was running out of juice. Ahead, he could hear the RED Demoman mumbling to himself. He would need the full charge in order to slip in and backstab him. Now that he thought about it, he would not be able to get past the sentries either, as they would see him. His invis watch would be useless when he was holding the intelligence, thanks to the Engineer on RED – not that BLU did not have the same thing on their case.

He trotted past the door and headed down to a distance where the decloak would not be heard. He waited there, watching his watch charge up, while being wary of possible dangers. The Pyro could come along to check the area with a spray of fire. The Demoman could stumble out of the intelligence room and see him. The Engineer could come back here to check on the Demo, only to find the Spy lurking outside of the door.

When the invis watch reached full charge, he put up the cloak and slipped inside. He darted around the stumbling drunk, aiming for his back. Once the man was down, Spy made a dramatic cry for help in the Demoman’s voice. Seeing as the Engineer would be nearby, he would likely be the one to come and help.

He clambered onto a cabinet, putting up the cloak again. He waited there by the door, for the right moment to jump his prey. It was a good thirty seconds before the Engineer came barreling in with his shotgun at the ready. Spy leaped at his back, slamming his blade into the man’s back. He smirked as he felt a momentary victory.

That victory was momentary, as he heard the Pyro call for the Engineer. He pulled out his disguise kit and put on the Engineer disguise. He grabbed the man’s body and dragged it around the desk, so that only the Demoman was in view of the door.

He hurried out into the hallway, calling out in that Texan accent, “Seems to be a Spy in here! Come help me!”

He held his hands in a way that fooled the Pyro into thinking he was holding a shotgun at the ready. He moved around in a paranoid way so that it looked like he was searching for a Spy.

The Pyro said something muffled beneath his gas mask, before he headed into the room. In one swift motion, Spy grabbed his knife and leaped at the Pyro’s back. He had very little time as the creature started to turn. He had to get the knife into his spine, and he barely managed it. He also barely managed to avoid the flames that came at him.

He brushed his suit, getting it completely sorted. He had some minutes before the Demoman or the Engineer respawned, but any of the others could come barreling in here. He would have to hurry up and finish the job before somebody from RED came.

He put the Engineer disguise back on and headed out to the sentry. He dropped a sapper on both the sentry and the dispenser to destroy both. Without the cry to alarm the others, none of the RED team noticed that their useful little dispenser had gone down.

He turned and hurried back to grab the intelligence. His disguise kit stopped working, but he did not worry about it. He charged out of the RED base, heading back towards his own base. His lungs were burning again, but he ignored them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the REDs responding to the Administrator’s warning about their intelligence. He could hear her telling his team that they had the intelligence.

He wanted a cigarette so badly right now, but he ignored the strain in the back of his mind. He forced himself forward, trying to run faster. He could hear bullets ricocheting nearby, as the RED team started shooting at him.

“Spy up here!” he heard the BLU Scout called.

He looked up at a roof with a feeling of disgust. The youth was all the way up high, where his aim would not reach. Throwing it up at him would be pointless, so he kept running.

“Spy! Wait!” Scout called after him.

Now that seemed strange. The sprinter would have charged ahead of him, making him throw it forward. ‘Like in football’ the kid would say, in reference to a traditional American sport.

He ducked through a building to avoid more shots. He was sure his body was slowing down and soon the RED Sniper would catch up with him. Just as long as he kept moving and did not allow the Sniper the chance to get his aim, he would be fine. Before he even realized where he was, he stumbled into base with the briefcase.

He stopped, relieved for the time, as he panted heavily for breath. It felt surreal to have grabbed the case and gotten it into the BLU base without much prior planning. Of course he had planned, but it was on his own and on the fly. He relied only on himself to get it and it worked marvelously.

“Great job!” Heavy came in and patted him on the back.

“Wow! Way to go Spy!” he looked up to see the BLU Medic giving him a thumbs up. The two of them headed back out, charging off again.

Spy needed another minute to breathe so he made his way to the respawn. He would restock his ammunition and switch out his tools. He would use the deadringer instead of the invis watch this time. They would be expecting him with the invis watch, so he would come in disguised as one of them. If they killed him, he would go for the kill.

He rushed out amidst the fighting, skirting it slightly. He aimed for the shadowy corners, where he knew he could put up the disguise without being heard. He waited and watched as the BLU Demo blew up the RED Soldier, and he donned that man’s disguise. How ironic, he thought of his disguise.

He headed up a flight of stairs near the entrance, approaching the Engineer. The man was jumpy thought, swinging around wildly. His goggles were on, but Spy could see those eyes moving all around. He decided to be calm, settling near the dispenser that would take care of any wounds he received.

“Go on! Git to the front, boy! Before we lose our winnin’ streak!” the Engineer yelled at him.

Spy’s eyebrows rose in surprise, he was about to pull out his sapper when several explosives, both red and blue in color, came bopping at the sentry and dispenser. The sentry took care of the BLU Demo, but the dispenser, the sentry, the Engineer and Spy himself exploded.

Spy respawned next to Demoman and roared with frustration. He had been close to destroying the tools and heading right into the intelligence room. What a load of shit.

“Relax mate, can’t win ‘em all!” Demoman reached over, but his hand was batted away.

“No. We don’t win at all,” Spy growled.

He rubbed his forehead, feeling frustrated. He was tired of this bullshit. He was tired of the same thing every single day. He was tired of waiting around for something to change. He was tired of the way Mann Co ran its war. The rules were convoluted anyways.

Builders League United had not contacted them once about all of the losses. How could the rules allow that? How could they not be failing their contracts enough for somebody to alert them with some form of warning?

“I think it’s time that Reliable Demolition and Excavation lost their winning streak,” Spy turned to Demoman with an angered glare.

Demo raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He did not need to say anything, as he followed Spy out the gates. They strolled quickly towards the battle. Spy held his head up, in an attempt to hold himself with a newfound sense of determination.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Demoman followed Spy without question. He sensed something like anger, maybe even hatred, in the man. There was this newfound pride and frustration in his body that reminded him of some vengeful beast. Given his class, the man was very likely a walking, vengeful spirit. He would not get in the way of something like that.

Spy pulled out his disguise kit and put on a disguise. He turned to Demo, showing that the mask had the BLU Soldier’s face drawn on it, “Take out the Engineer’s toys.”

Demo flinched, “What do you expect to accomplish, disguised as the _BLU_ Soldier?”

“Let me handle that,” Spy nodded to him.

“Alright then, Soldier!” he gave the Spy a cocky salute. Spy really was good at imitating voices, though that could be the disguise kit, he was not sure.

They charged the base together. As requested, Demo sent explosives at the Engineer’s little nest, destroying his sentry and his dispenser.

“Sentry down!” the Engineer cried out, as he turned from the teleporter he was building.

Demo wasted no time in blowing up the man and his little teleporter. He leaped aside as a rocket came his way. He had to dodge his RED counterpart and the RED Soldier. While Demo turned his attention to the fight, Spy charged forward, heading headlong for the hallway leading to the next intelligence. The RED Soldier took on the BLU Demo, but the RED Demoman chased after the Spy, thinking he was the Soldier, with his explosives.

Demo opened his mouth to warn the Spy, but he was too late. He heard the scream, which sounded like the Soldier’s dying cry, as the body fell. The mask did not disappear as it normally would though.

“Oh,” he thought aloud, as he realized that Spy probably had his deadringer on him.

He did not know the Spy class too well, but he knew that the deadringer was supposed to make it look like the BLU had died. Given they only saw him as the BLU Soldier, the REDs did not have any idea that it could be the Spy carrying his deadringer. What a tricky bastard, Demo thought.

He laughed to himself as he turned on the enemy Soldier and Demo. They would take a beating before they went down, so this was going to be fun, what with not having the BLU Soldier to help him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Scout saw the Soldier fall and leaped over towards the fray. His corpse left behind the Demo to fend for himself against two REDs. He laughed at the Soldier’s enthusiastic nature. Always the first to charge to the fray, not unlike Scout himself.

“Hey! Up here, bozos!” Scout called as he leaped over their heads, spraying shotgun shells at them.

“Watch it, mate!” the BLU Demo exclaimed.

“Come down here and fight me like a man!” the RED Soldier shouted at him.

“Nah!” Scout laughed as the BLU Demo took advantage of the RED Soldier’s distraction. The guy blew up so fast it was funnier than anything he had seen all week.

“Thanks mate!” BLU Demo called to him, before charging the RED Demo.

“No problem!” he called.

He turned his head just in time to see the BLU Spy coming out of the RED base. No wonder they were taking down this defense. Demo and Soldier probably wanted to give Spy a clear path to take the intelligence through. Scout decided to give him a hand with getting the intel back to BLU base.

“Yo Spy!” he called out, leaping to the ground. He turned, running backwards with his hands up to catch it, “Pass it!”

Spy hesitated, before flinging it over the Demos’ heads. Both men looked up with bewildered expressions, before returning to fighting. Like the true athlete he was, Scout caught he briefcase. He saluted Spy, and turned to charge off towards their base. He did not stop until he heard those sweet words of victory about their second briefcase.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy respawned and found himself near the Demoman again. The man had just finished reloading his pockets with ammunition. He smirked at Spy, with a cold blooded delight for violence.

“This is a good start, lad. What’ll we do next?” he asked.

Spy smirked, “This time…” He put on the BLU Demoman disguise. “This time, you’re following me in.”

“How’re you gonna pull that off?” Demo scratched his head with a puzzled look.

The Medic respawned with an infuriated growl, “Idiots! Morons! Imbeciles!” He flung his quick fix around in a flurry of anger.

Spy exchanged a quick glance with the Demoman. “You want to join us, laddie?” the Demoman offered.

“I’m supposed to be paired with the Heavy,” Medic argued. He looked like a pouting child in the midst of his fit. “He and Pyro want to push forward like madmen! I don’t have their level of health? What do they think, I am invincible behind them?”

“I think not,” Spy shrugged, looking to Demo.

The other man smirked at Medic, “Pocket me, doc.”

“We need to return to the buddy system, don’t we?” Medic argued.

“You?” Spy started chuckling.

“What about me?” Medic blinked at him.

“A stickler for rules? Really?” Spy shook his head, “Seriously, we know you well enough to know that you don’t care about the rules of anything.”

“For science, I disregard rules,” the Medic said, with a bit of argumentation in his tone.

“Pocket me, Medic,” the Demo insisted, “Me ‘n’ Spy are going for the third briefcase.”

“ _Everybody_ is going for the third briefcase,” Medic rolled his eyes.

“Do this with us,” Spy insisted, “It worked the first two times. Why not a third?”

“I do not believe in coincidences,” the Medic mused, thoughtfully, “So perhaps you’re onto something.” He turned to the Demoman. “Alright then, let’s do this!”

“How’re we going this time?” Demo turned to Spy, with a big grin.

“I’m going to disguise as Heavy,” Spy explained.

“Heavy is out at the East side,” Medic argued.

“That’s fine,” Spy waved off his worry, “We’ll take a shortcut, let them be distracted by the real heavy. Hang back behind me like I’m your pocket. After the deadringer drops a corpse, you pocket Demoman.”

“Alright,” Medic went to his locker to restock his pockets.

Spy turned to Demo, “Just be sure there are no sentries. I’ll bring out the intel.”

“You sure you can handle it, mate?” Demo teased, with a cocky smile.

Spy smiled back, “Let’s show them what Builders League United can do when we’re at our most determined.”

Spy led the way out, Demo and Medic both hot on his heels. He waited on the Heavy disguise, not wanting to slow himself down. As promised, he led them through a shortcut, an area that usually the Spies and the Engineers only used for quick passage around the battlefield. The Engineers often traveled it to get back to respawn for supplies, but the Spies both used these areas for sneaking around the enemy.

When they approached the last tunnel, he put on the disguise. He raised his hands, as if hefting a big minigun that the Russian usually carried. He glanced over his shoulder at the Medic, who nodded in response. The Medic trained his medigun on him, bringing the REDs’ focus immediately to the Spy.

Demo was faster than before with the explosives. The sentry went down so quick that all Spy had to worry about were the RED Scout and the RED Demo. Demo charged forth as a spray of explosives came too close for Medic. The German hung back, shouting something in German.

An explosive hit Spy and he cried out in pain using the Russian’s voice. He continued on his way, running into the base. He wasted no time in donning the RED Scout disguise to avoid issues with the other RED mercenaries. When he reached the intel though, it did not let him keep the disguise. He grabbed the briefcase and ran, hurrying back out into the bright sunlight.

The RED Scout was targeting him heavily. Medic and Demo were both focused on fending off the RED Demo, so they were not much use helping the Spy with the conceited youth. He would have to fend for himself, so he grabbed his pistol and began firing.

Suddenly, the sound of a decloak caught his ear. He ducked low and darted to the side, not worrying about how fast he was moving. If the RED Spy was nearby, he had a new problem to worry about.

“Sorry to pop in unannounced,” RED Spy said, before disappearing with the invis watch again.

“Fuck you!” the BLU Spy cried out, before he started running again.

Bullets splintered off the ground and some ricocheted into his leg. He cried out in pain but refused to stop running. Before long, the pain just faded. It took him longer than he would admit to realize that he was being healed. He glanced over his shoulder to see the BLU Medic chasing after him, almost gaining on him.

“Hurry! Hurry!” the man was shouting in German.

BLU Spy nodded to himself and charged for the BLU base. This would be their third win. It was their third win. And rejoining with the Medic in respawn, he took a moment to revel in their victory.

“Well done,” the Medic said breathlessly, as he patted his shoulder.

“We’re not done yet,” Spy panted.

“Aye,” Medic nodded, pausing to glance out the exit gates.

“If we keep like this, they’re going to catch us,” Spy took a last breath and straightened himself up, “We need to mix it up.”

“How so?” Medic asked.

Spy hesitated for thought. They would need two new strategies for getting in and fetching the briefcases. All the while, their colleagues were distracting the majority of the RED team. It would work out, so long as those distractions remained.

His thoughts jinxed it, as every other mercenary started appearing in the respawn. He stared at them with both despair and disbelief that so many had died at around the same time. Even the Sniper, who had been safely crouched in a nest he made for himself, had died at the same time as the others.

“What gobshite!” Sniper exclaimed with irritation.

“Who’s been bringing in the intel?” Engineer looked around at everybody.

“Spy bring in first time,” Heavy announced.

“Spy has been leading us boys in to get the intel,” Demo explained, “So far it’s worked.”

“What? All of a sudden you guys are good at this?” Scout exclaimed, motioning to Spy and Demo.

“No, I think it has to do with the distractions,” Spy addressed everybody in the room. All eight of them were there, save for Soldier. “Gentlemen, one may bring in the intel, but it is everyone who makes this a win! We have two more to catch before we actually win! So…who’s with me?”

His little pep talk worked as everybody started cheering excitedly. They seemed to get pumped up, without any given promises of what they would be doing otherwise. In fact, that was what got the Sniper to raise his hand.

“Question, Sniper?” he motioned to the Australian.

The man folded his arms over his chest, “What’ll we be doing?”

“The majority of you need to keep them occupied,” Spy explained, “Keep them farther from their base.”

“Shouldn’t we be fighting closer to the base?” Engineer offered, “I could build a sentry up by their entry.”

“No,” Spy shook his head, “Bring them out of respawn and away from their base. I need the area mostly clear.”

“So you’re going in again?” Scout asked.

Spy shook his head, “Not this time.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Scout was nervous about his time to shine. Except…not really. He was supposed to practice stealth. He had promised Spy he would do his best to be quiet. No taunts, no complaints and no shouting. Those were Spy’s rules.

Scout could handle that, couldn’t he? He had won worse bets. It was not like he was having to watch his language, just keep quiet when it was necessary.

He glanced back, realizing that he was leaving the others in the dust. He hurried back, regrouping with Demo and Pyro. They had to follow Spy’s plan. The other guys had to move up first, so they had to let the lumbering Russian run out ahead of them to take on the REDs closer to the BLU base. Hopefully they would come this time too.

He looked around, searching fervently for the Soldier. He was not in the respawn when they left, so he did not know what they were doing. He could play an important role in their plan. Or, he could make it fall apart, one or the other. Still, he searched for the man.

“Focus boy!” the Demo slapped him on the back, before darting out of reach.

“I am focused!” Scout rebutted, but Demo said nothing in return.

He turned his head to watch the others go out to face the bulk of the RED team. They would be the distraction the smaller team needed to keep the bulk of RED at bay. The few defenders would be dealt with by the trio and Spy.

“Keep your focus,” Spy’s disembodied voice said.

“I _am_ focused!” Scout exclaimed. He looked around, but he could not see a Spy.

After a short while, they heard the familiar French voice call out to them, “This way!”

They followed the voice, moving slower and quieter through the passageways. They paused when he told them to and moved when he told them to. They did not want the bulk of RED to catch onto the small group’s movements. All the while, Scout wondered if the RED Spy was already onto them. Perhaps RED would start using this tactic too.

“Alert! The enemy has taken our intelligence!” the Administrator announced.

Scout gasped softly. It was an unwitting response to the news. It was not like this was unusual news, this happened five times every day. They were all used to it by now. But he was so intently focused on his task that it felt jarring.

“Don’t worry about it,” the Frenchman assured him, “Let the others deal with that while we get the red briefcase.”

“Right,” Scout nodded. He was not as confident as his voice and his nod let on though.

He wanted to run out to where the others were and help them with the distraction. Focus meant that he was being more than the center of attention – something he typically liked – he was the main attraction, the most important piece. Nobody knew that better than Scout at this moment.

He kept his steady pace, up until they reached the opening. His heart was starting to pound in his throat and his lungs wanted to give out. It made his chest hurt so badly.

“This is it,” he heard the Spy say, “Your moment.”

“Let’s go boy!” the Demoman charged forward.

Taking his cue, Scout darted into the sunlight. He made all of the noise he could, taunting and making as much of a racket as he could manage. That was his job at this moment. Demo was acting like his normal self, but Scout had to beat him, getting their attentions by tenfold.

When the sentry gun’s bullets hit him it felt like pressure. It felt so weird to have bullets go through him that did not actually go through him. He paused to feel his chest, but there were no wounds, only a body left behind. He let out his usual scream of pain, though it faded quickly as there was no actual pain, then moved on.

One hand held his bat, ready to beat the shit out of whoever was in the intelligence room. The other hand held the deadringer that had kept him alive. He was ready and alert, moving along a wall as instructed, in case a RED came out. When the RED Soldier passed him, he never realized how much care went into Spying. Just breathing felt like a foolish thing to do, so he pressed up against the wall and held his breath.

He hurried on to the intelligence room, to find that it was being guarded by the RED Scout. The guy looked bored, popping his gum as he leaned against the desk. He was staring at nothing when BLU Scout brought his bat down on his head. The guy gave out a cry, shouting in pain and then calling out for help. Scout gave him little time to do so, beating his head until he stopped moving.

He did not care if the other Scout was dead or not. He grabbed the briefcase and ran. He had no time to double check to be sure. He grabbed the intelligence and made a mad dash for the door.

Outside he was cheered on by his coworkers. They were all shouting and hollering excitedly as he ran. There was no sentry gun to stop him. The Engineer was dead. The Demo was dead. The RED Soldier could not hit him with a single rocket, not even the spray from the rockets.

He reveled in the feeling of victory as the Administrator announced that they had stolen the fourth intelligence briefcase. That felt good. That felt great! That was the best feeling Scout had had in a very long time. And when the others joined him in respawn to create a new plan, they all made sure to congratulate him for a job well done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who will win?  
> Who will lose?  
> You decide!
> 
> No not really, I already know who's going to win. But go ahead and comment to let me know who YOU think is going to win!


	20. The Soldier Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier escapes and makes his way back to the battlefield. He will not be stopped!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was contemplating stacking up on chapters to post as I pleased, but decided against it.

“I betcha that smarts for them!” Demo laughed, as he patted Scout’s back. His eye was trained on the boy, but all of his other senses were trained on the Spy.

The Spy slinked through the room to the center, where he could address everybody in respawn. As of yet, nobody else seemed to notice or question that Soldier was not around. Perhaps that was for the best anyways. Having anybody ask for the man might distract the Spy from what he was doing.

“We have one more briefcase to get,” Spy announced, “And this time, we’re bringing it all to their base.”

“We’ve got four up to this point!” Medic argued, “Why change it now?”

“That seems like the opposite of a good plan,” Scout added.

“No, they will be expecting us to try the same thing again. If I know their Spy, he’s already alerted several of their colleagues,” he explained, “And this time, we’re going to take them by chaos.”

“We always try to take them by some form of chaos, lad,” Demo intervened.

“Organized chaos, my friend,” Spy insisted, placing both hands behind his back, “Each man needs to be in his place at exactly the right time.”

Demo was not sure how that was going to work. Chaos was chaos, no matter how you put it, or planned it. It would always be something you could not control.

Still, he took the man’s instructions to heart and headed out with the rest. He followed Medic and the Spy through the secretive passageways – which were not so secret anymore – with the doc building up an uber charge. He kept to the Spy’s pace, watching as the Frenchman donned a new mask.

“Let’s do it!” Demoman roared out as they ran out. They were not taking this passageway to be sneaky. They were doing it to detract attention.

As the Spy had guessed, the entire RED team was waiting for them there. The RED Demoman blew some stickies above them, but they hurried out into the clearing fast enough to avoid them. Once they were past the explosions, Demo charged the RED Soldier, throwing grenades wildly.

“Come at me, boys!” he called out.

He saw the Scout pass by the corner of his eye. The boy was roaring, drawing attention to himself the way he did best. His RED counterpart came for him. Demoman turned his full attention to the task at hand. He needed to take out the Soldier and the Engineer’s toys if he could. He had the Medic at his back to do it with.

“I’m fully charged!” the Medic called out.

Demo smirked, “Charge me, doc!” He prepared his sticky launcher, aiming for the sentry that was swinging towards him.

The Medic charged him up, giving him that unique energy boost that made him feel high as a kite and completely bulletproof. He launched stickies all around the RED Engineer, taking out his teleporter, the dispenser and the sentry, along with the man himself. He launched more explosives at the RED Heavy, who was having a shootout competition with his BLU counterpart. He felt highly accomplished, pulling off more chaos than what was assigned to him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Damn the Demoman, Spy thought. He was getting really full of himself, probably from the high of the ubercharge. It was taking away from the others’ chaos. It left several BLU team members without their own chaos to stir.

Spy darted around the chaos and slipped past the sentry. He would have to rely on his colleagues this time. So far, relying on himself had done the trick, but he would leave it up to them to disarm the Engineer’s little toys. He needed to be sure that he got the intel out of the building and through the chaos.

But, if his calculations were correct on who would be in the intel room defending, he would need to be sneakier than usual. He passed the door and went to a distance where he could decloak and let his invis watch recharge. He waited patiently, cautiously watching and listening for any sounds of the RED Spy. He would be inside there, waiting for him to come.

There would be no getting the upper hand with surprise. The RED knew he was coming. He might not know that it was the BLU Spy coming for the intel, and he only hoped that he was expecting Scout. The fast footed youth was good at running, and was very good at getting through chaos. He would likely be the first mercenary through the chaos, just as the BLU had calculated.

Scout did not pause, ignoring the Spy as he put up a cloak. He ducked right into the intel room, going for the intelligence itself. He grabbed the briefcase and turned to run. BLU stepped into the doorway when he saw the youth fall and the RED appeared.

“Sorry to pop in unannounced!” the RED Spy chuckled, with a devilish smirk. He thought he had won. He thought he had already played his way through their plans.

“Not on your life!” BLU flinched when he heard the RED Engineer shouting.

“Come here, sweetheart!” the RED Soldier was roaring.

“Come get some!” the BLU Demoman shouted at them, with a fury of explosions following.

BLU Spy ducked into the room as dust began to fall from the ceiling. The RED Spy lit a fresh cigarette and sighed. He seemed to know what was already going on outside.

“Imbeciles,” the RED Spy muttered.

BLU Spy crept quietly around him, going for the back of his suit. His knife was already in hand and he just had to open it. Flipping it out, he carefully crept around the desk and got into an angle at which he could stab him.

Just as he was about to bring his hand down, a piece of paper swished off of the desk. It caught both Spies’ attention, surprising BLU. He flung his arm out, but he missed his target, landing it into the man’s shoulder blade instead of his spine. The RED Spy cried out in pain, stumbling forward and away from the BLU Spy.

“You!” he rounded on the BLU.

“It seems I am not the only Spy,” BLU snickered.

RED pulled out his gun and fired, but the time it took him to draw it allowed BLU to duck out of the way. He used the desk for coverage while he drew his pistol. He glared at the ceiling.

“Your meddling has made quite a mess,” he told the RED, “Stealing our Soldier and playing as a BLU employee is below the belt, even for you.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have differing tastes in going below the belt, do we?” RED snickered, “You insult my love life, I’ll insult yours.”

“And what is it that you have done with our Soldier?” BLU demanded. He kept the anger out of his voice though.

“I have not permanently killed him, if that is what you are wondering,” RED responded, “Your lover is safe. In fact, he is still in BLU base.”

BLU grimaced, turning on his invis watch. He moved around the room, watching as the RED disappeared as well. They would be like this for a while if neither of them tried something. If he tried to strike at nothing though, he would lose his cloak and the RED would gain the upper hand. RED knew this and would not strike either. They would be stuck like this, waiting for the other Spy to make his move.

“Come on, I do not have all day,” BLU said, with irritation.

He realized his mistake a bit too late but used it to his advantage. The RED came at him under cloak, but not seeing where the BLU was standing could not estimate where his back was. His knife went into the BLU’s shoulder, while BLU used the moment of decloak to shoot him. The bullet went into the RED sternum, while the RED raised the knife to bring it down into BLU’s back. His finger released one last bullet into his chest, before BLU fell to his knees and then to his death.

 

*********************************************************************

 

BLU Medic darted into the hallway of the RED base, panting heavily. Behind him, the Demoman fell to his death, beside the RED Engineer and the RED Soldier. The RED Demoman was off somewhere fighting with the BLU Sniper. The two were fighting between explosives and sharp shooting.

Medic did not have any more ammunition in his needle gun, and would likely die if somebody came at him with any weapon. It made him feel alert and paranoid, as he limped down the hallway. The shaking pain made him utter some choice words in German, as he made his way to the intelligence room. He had not seen anybody leave this room since Scout went in.

He was not disappointed to see the boy crumpled on the floor. That had been a huge part of their plan. The boy was a martyr for Spy to get in and take out the RED Spy. It was frustrating to see both Spies, one laying over the other, dead on the floor. It was obvious that the two had killed each other, trying with poor odds to take the other down. BLU Spy had a gun in his hand, and RED Spy had his hand hovering near the knife in the BLU Spy’s back.

It did not take a genius to assess that things had not gone quite according to Spy’s plan. If their deaths were anything to go by, Medic was sure that he was next. Any of the RED team members could be respawning as he dawdled there, prepping their guns and ammunition for the rest of the round. Their plan had failed and he had walked into a death trap.

At least failing closer to BLU would have resulted in a limp that could be healed. If he was caught by a RED here, he would end in a painful death. He eyed the briefcase as he thought about death. All of this for a stupid red briefcase.

If they saw him running with the briefcase, they would kill him instantly. That thought got his attention, as a quick death meant a relatively painless death. Some shot to the head was faster and more effective than a repetitive mauling that would occur. Of course, there was always the threat of the Pyro, who would burn him slowly to a crisp, regardless of whether he was carrying the intelligence or not.

He opted for a fast death and grabbed the intelligence. He heard the Administrator announce his success, but ignored her. He was not after the win, he was after the fast death.

When he hurried out of the intelligence room and out of the hallway, he was surprised he had not yet been caught. That was strange, since a RED should have respawned by now. It had been ten minutes at least since the RED Sniper died. That man would have shot him down fast and painlessly. One shot to the head was the best way to go down, in Medic’s opinion.

He was more surprised when there were not bullets heading his way. Nobody seemed to know he was there. Nobody turned to him. Nobody paid him any mind as he ran for the BLU base.

Nobody even questioned the BLU doctor wandering alone with a red briefcase. When he looked around, he found no offense or defense either. It was like everybody had disappeared.

He knew that was not the case. He could hear the loud and melancholy roar of the Heavys somewhere nearer to the BLU base. Maybe the battle had pushed back towards the BLU base after all. That was not according to plan though, everybody was supposed to keep the REDs by the RED base, so that the Spy could get the briefcase back with little defense from RED.

He glanced at the briefcase in his hand, realizing what he was really doing. This would not be a quick death for him. He may have been injured, limping his way back to his base to lick his wounds, but he had the briefcase and if he could just get it inside then they would be done for the day.

That thought sent him forward and he charged up a set of stairs into a building connecting to those secretive passageways Spy had shown them. Maybe if he was quiet enough, he might get around the REDs with the case. That was, unless they saw the trail leading straight to him.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the inevitable trail following behind him. It was like a bit of doom. Here he was putting aside his quick death for the briefcase, the win for his team, and more factors were just piling up for him.

He pulled out his ubersaw, ready to slash through anybody who came into sight. He would tear them to shreds and take the briefcase back to base. He would end this day with the BLU team winning. For the first time in over a month, BLU would win, ending RED’s winning streak.

“Surprise!” a familiar RED Scout popped out of nowhere. He was not as fast as he thought he was, as shouting at his intended target gave the doctor enough time to duck behind a beam.

The beam gave very little protection to the Medic’s body, but it guarded his vital organs. As long as he stayed at a low height, moving in a crouched position, he would not die. That was, unless the idiot American managed to figure out how to spray him with ricochet debris. He certainly was doing a good job at blinding him with dirt, as the boy shot wildly with a shotgun at everything around the beam, just trying to hit the BLU Medic.

“Like this, son,” Medic raised his head enough to see the RED Soldier distracting the RED Scout. He took the moment to flee, rising to his full height and running at full speed.

He heard the rocket aimed his way. He did not have much time to get around it, and if it hit him he was surely down. He doubted his leg could take any more damage, even from the spray that came from a rocket hitting the ground.

He darted side to side, trying to zig zag around the inevitable attack. He heard the rocket and moved to the right. He slid on his heels and turned his face away as it landed just a little way ahead and to the left of him. Something stung his left cheek, but otherwise he was completely fine.

He took a deep breath as he charged forward again. He could already hear more rockets coming his way, along with a RED Scout. He only hoped he could manage to dodge the boy’s attacks enough to stab him. He could handle the Soldier, but the flighty youth was spry, fast, agile and not so easy to grab. He often reminded him of an ornery bird, something he handled quite often, given Archimedes’ tendencies to change moods.

 

*********************************************************************

 

All Andrew had managed was to knock himself over. He laid on his side, still tied to the chair, staring into darkness. It felt like it was all leading up to this, as he pondered through the endless minutes that turned into hours. However long it had been he was not sure, but he wished it would end soon. If it ended in death, so be it. He just wanted it to end.

He tilted his head, his helmet rolling to the side. That was when it hit something with a metallic clink. He flinched, the noise reminding him of an armed weapon. When he realized that he was safe, he relaxed a bit and tried to look around the helmet. He shoved it aside with his head, surprised to find that a metal box cutter had been left lying around in this closet.

Now how did that get here? He chuckled to himself, remembering how irresponsible most of his teammates were. Andrew himself could have accidentally forgotten about it, but it was just as likely that Scout or Demoman had brought it in here with boxes to pack away or to open boxes, and had simply left it there.

He would have to thank them for their irresponsibility – though he was sure the Medic and the Spy would argue that it was dumb irresponsibility. He immediately started wriggling, trying to inch across the dirty floor with the chair. On his own, he could have done it quickly, but with the chair tied to his legs and arms, as well as his torso, just moving at all was difficult. Making the chair move with him was almost impossible.

When he reached the knife, he took it with his mouth and spat it at his hands. He smirked when the familiar tool slid nicely into his palm and his thumb found the little knob to push out the blade. How he wished he had this sooner. How he wished he could have seen this sooner. Of course, maybe it was for the best, since it being in the darkest darkness on the floor meant the RED Spy had not seen it either. That sneak would not have taken such a chance as this happening.

When Andrew broke free, he rubbed his wrists and stretched his back. His skin and muscles had not had a rest from his work attire or his back brace in almost forty eight hours. He was going to make the RED Spy pay for that.

His wrists now had red marks, some of which had broken blood vessels. He would make the RED Spy pay for that too. Of course, that would likely come after he saw the BLU Medic about the wounds.

He got his feet underneath himself and stumbled out the door. It did not take him too long to get his sense of balance and direction. Still, he would make the RED pay for that too.

When he stumbled past the sunlight coming through a window, he winced. What a painful sight, after so many hours in the darkness. Of course, he would make the RED Spy pay for that too. He would make that Frenchman pay for everything he did to Andrew. He would make him pay for everything he had done up to this point. He would also go through pains to shut him up if necessary.

He stomped down to respawn, only to find the door locked. It was an automated lock that would not let anybody in or anybody out. Of course, the assumption was that nobody was actually in the base, so it was primarily meant for nobody to come back in. The requirement was that all mercenaries stay out on the battlefield.

Whatever, there were other ways of getting out of the main base. Respawn was not the only way out. After all, RED Spy managed to get in and out during the work hours, had he not?

He headed through the base to find a weapon. Most everything was either locked up or being used in the respawn room. Everything, even Andrew’s own rocket launcher, was out of his reach. Maybe he would have to go and fetch it after he got out onto the battlefield.

Still, he did not feel safe with going out there unarmed. If he at least had a melee weapon, he would feel better about being out there near the fight.

He settled for a pan from the kitchen, whacking it across his helmet to test its mettle. “You’ll do well!” he told the cast iron tool, with a big grin.

He turned his attention to the windows. Most of them were pretty high up from the actual ground, given the floor was raised up. It was to prevent enemy mercenaries from being able to simply climb in without warning.

He grabbed a rag and climbed over the kitchen sink. He wrapped the rag around his fist, while his other hand tested the thickness of the glass. After he was sure of the weakest point, he gave it a few good punches and then flung his entire body through it.

He landed with a painful grunt and rolled to his feet. He felt some pain in his shoulder, but nothing that could not be patched up by a medigun or respawn. Perhaps he could find the Engineer on defense with a dispenser. That would be most helpful.

He rushed out to try and get to the battlefield. It was mostly blocked off with buildings though. There were lots of buildings, all of them at least two stories high. As he made his way around in the mud, he began to realize just how enclosed their fighting space was. It was as if the plan was to keep them secluded to that space for fighting.

This made sense, except that there was a lot of space that Mann Co owned around the fight. There were wooded areas, space that he knew Sniper liked to trek through. There were places out there he was sure that BLU sniper could have used better for a fight than anything in those buildings set up in the battlements.

He slid to a halt in the mud when a beep caught his attention. His first instinct was that it was a sentry, causing him to tense up with alarm. He looked around, searching for the source of the noise. When he found nothing, he proceeded forward, until a dot of red caught the corner of his eye.

He turned, raising his pan, ready to assault any RED he found. He was tense, every muscle in his body taut as he stared into the forest. Overhead, clouds rolled in, making the shadows even darker and the sunlight not so bright. The removal of some of the bright assault of light made Andrew’s vision a little clearer, and as he edged towards the trees, he began to realize that there were some electronic devices engineered into the plants themselves.

Near twenty feet above his head, he could see a blue camera. Its wires went down to a panel attached to its lower trunk. It was just within reach, where somebody could probably work on the camera or fetch its information, like an Engineer.

He toddled over to it curiously. None of the cameras on base were wired like this. All those only showed their feed in the manual operation room.

When he opened the panel, there was a small screen and a wide range of buttons. There were slots for things to go into. There were flashing lights that notified the person looking at it of something important. On the screen was the greenery around him, viewing what the camera above caught.

Sniper should have seen this here. This was an area that the outdoorsman would be wandering. And if he was wandering out here, he was caught on camera often.

Andrew could not make heads nor tails of the controls either. So he closed the panel, deciding to leave it alone. He would let the Sniper know not to go wandering here when he did not want to be seen. He also decided to ask the Engineer about it. The technician would likely know where it came from and how it worked.

The distant roar of a minigun grew louder. It was getting nearer, as were the voices of some enemies and allies. He would be hard pressed to get to them.

When he looked up at the nearest building, he wished his hands held a rocket launcher. He could have boosted himself to the top of that building, he thought. It would have been easy enough to launch himself into the fray, if only he had his best weapon on hand.

But he did not have such a weapon. He only had his frying pan. He did not know what to do with it. In fact, he felt a bit foolish carrying it. At least a Spy would have been careful enough to bring something sharp, like one of those knives laying around back in the kitchen.

But, he did not have a rocket launcher or a knife. He had a frying pan. He had a piece of kitchenware that served him no purpose in the past, but to sauté vegetables and burn his hands.

Still, he wandered towards the buildings blocking him off from the battlements. At least he could try and find his way in. maybe there was some missed crawl space. Maybe there was some place he had missed a door. Maybe there was some part of the whole thing that was not even built close enough to block them off.

There was not much to find but a small hole in the wood of a wall. Perhaps that would lead him somewhere. Crawling was slow and fitting his thick body through the hole was more tasking than he had ever imagined. He had been through worse trenches in Belgium, so he sucked in his gut and forced himself through.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Medic shrieked when he first saw the floor board pop up. He clenched to the intelligence, unsure of what was going to happen. It was so unorthodox to just see a floor board pop up of its own accord.

It slowly slid aside and thick fingers tried to reach for an edge, grappling weakly. Unable to think thoroughly, Medic stomped on the fingers, hoping that the danger would pass so he could continue on his way. The resulting screeched and outcry could have been attributed to either Soldier. But when the Soldier cried out, “Medic!” he knew which one it was.

“Soldier?” he stepped forward and peered down into the darkness. His eyes slowly trained on a figure laying in the dirt beneath the floor boards. “What are you doing down there?” he asked in disbelief.

“Trying to get into the battlefield!” Soldier bellowed, “The Soldier’s a Spy! The RED Spy displaced me!”

“Yea, I figured that out,” Medic admitted, having heard the Spy mention this at one point.

“Oh,” the Soldier looked up at him with worry.

“Come here, we have to get the intel back to base,” Medic reached down to grab Soldier’s hand. The result was an outcry. “Give me your uninjured hand, idiot!”

The Soldier switched hands and Medic grabbed the wrist of the injured hand. He had to carefully pull him up, as the man had lodged himself beneath beams under the floor panels. Given his broad shouldered posture, the Soldier could not possibly have crawled under there.

“Is that where the RED Spy stashed you?” Medic asked, peering at his colleague as he dusted himself off.

“No, I was stashed in a storage closet in the base,” Soldier replied.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the cry of the RED Scout came down the passageway.

“Oh no!” Medic felt his hackles rise as panic set in again. It was time to run, but this time the Scout was back.

“Let’s go, Medic!” Soldier grabbed his arm and charged off down the passageway, leading him without any further discretion of what was going on.

“Soldier, do you have your rocket launcher?” Medic pleaded, hoping the man could take the intel with a mad dash and a leap to the respawn.

“I have nothing but a frying pan,” the man waved his cooking tool through the air with his free hand, “I had nothing else on hand to bring with me.”

“Oh great,” Medic sighed with despair as they ran out into the open.

To his left and his right, Medic could see REDs fighting BLUs. The RED Heavy quickly turned his rain of bullets towards them, hitting Medic in several sensitive vital organs. He cried out, but lost his breath as blood pooled into his lungs. A feeling of desperation kept him running though. It was a mix of desperation and the Soldier pulling him along that kept his body moving forward.

“Come on Medic!” he heard the Soldier shouting, as he dragged him along towards the respawn.

“Medic!” he heard somebody cry out.

Suddenly, several BLU team mates were shooting at them. Medic closed his eyes and followed his feet. Having both RED and BLU shooting at him was too much. Having blood pooling in his lungs was also too much.

When he heard the Administrator’s announcement it was all so much. He could not even celebrate as he collapsed to his knees. He was amazed that there were hands trying to keep him up, trying to help him out. He knew this was inevitable though. He just could not say what he meant. He was relieved when the barrel of a pistol touched his forehead and a shot rang out.

 

*********************************************************************

 

BLU Spy charged into respawn with Heavy and Demo at his heels. He had his pistol ready when he aimed at the assailant. Nothing made sense at the moment. Nothing was clear for him, but he started shooting at what seemed to be the RED Spy.

“What are you doing?” BLU Spy demanded, aiming the pistol at what appeared to be Andrew.

“Spy!” Demoman put a hand on his shoulder.

He quickly shrugged off the hand, turning his full attention to what appeared to be Soldier. He addressed him directly, certain that the RED Spy would no doubt try to play everything off.

“Spy,” Heavy stepped forward, setting down his minigun, “We won. Is humiliation round. BLU wins. RED loses. This is BLU Soldier. Real BLU Soldier.”

Spy looked from the Heavy to Soldier twice before settling his eyes on the Soldier. He was not sure what to say, feeling embarrassment in front of the giant. The man had little concern for him though, turning his attention to the downed Medic.

Soldier stepped past the Medic he had downed and saluted Spy and Demo, “I have no excuses for being absent from today’s round!”

Spy glanced over at Demo, feeling a bit overwhelmed for a moment. Relief struck him, like a tidal wave. Confusion drifted off, like an unwanted kicked puppy. And finally happiness replaced all of that pent up anger that had been driving him the entire day.

“We are glad to see you, Soldier,” he put his pistol away, tucking it underneath his suit.

“Aye!” Demoman agreed heartily, “You came up just in time, boy!”

“Hey guys! You’re missing the humiliation round!” Scout came barreling in to grab ammo before darting out again. He did not even notice the Soldier’s presence in the room.

“How about some come uppin’s for the likes of RED?” Demoman growled, with a giddy smirk.

“You go ahead,” Spy waved him away, “I’ve lost the fervor.”

“I’m off for revenge,” Heavy grabbed his minigun as he followed the Demoman out the door.

Spy was relieved that the doctor’s body also disappeared at that time. He and Soldier were left alone in relative peace. It was not very quiet, but at least there was nobody around to disturb them, aside from the cameras peering at them with scrutiny.

“I am glad you are okay,” Spy finally said, when he had had enough of listening to the buzz of machine noise. It was mostly the hum of the respawn generator, which was at maximum capacity during work hours.

Andrew grinned at him, “I am glad to have been of some service to the team, even if it was small.”

“You did more in those last few minutes than you’ve probably done in a year,” Spy chuckled to himself.

Andrew frowned, “What do you mean?”

Spy shook his head, “It doesn’t matter what I meant. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

“Get a room!” the Boston accent trailed in before the youth came trudging into the respawn room. He was panting heavily, his clothing fully soaked in what looked like dirty water.

“What happened to you?” Spy asked out of instinct.

“Got thrown off my game and fell into some stagnant water,” Scout shrugged. He did not even look up as he pulled off the wet shirt and threw it aside. “Hey Solly! Where you been, pal?”

Andrew said nothing, though he was chomping on his teeth to speak. He did not formulate any kind of sound, aside from the grinding. Scout looked a little put off by the lack of an answer.

It did not take long for the humiliation round to end and the door to open to their base. Andrew immediately turned, stomping out of respawn without a word. He did not have to say much for Spy to understand. He was upset with himself for missing the majority of the battle, and he did not know how to express that intelligibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay BLU wins! But you knew that, didn't you? Wasn't about the ending, was it?
> 
> I will be livestream writing in the future!  
> check out my channel on twitch for info https://www.twitch.tv/madoushi_ryuu


	21. Last Night Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the incident with the RED Spy, BLU Spy is not willing to put his lover and himself at risk. This is to be their last night together for a long time.

Spy went to his room to retire. He could not help but fret though, waiting for Andrew to turn up. When the Soldier did not come to his smoking room, he meandered out to find him. He was hesitant to go to the man’s room, so he tried not to be direct, taking a long way. He was surprised to hear his voice in the infirmary, and headed that way. He stood outside the door, listening to the Medic and Andrew talking.

“This should help with the cramping there,” the Medic was saying. His boots clipped against the floor.

“Thanks doc,” Andrew sighed.

“I am glad that you finally came to me, Soldier,” the Medic told him.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, doc,” Andrew sighed.

“How’d you cut your wrist here?” the Medic asked.

Spy flinched at that. That was a frightening thing to think of. Surely Andrew had not cut himself on purpose though.

“Struggling to get out, I cut myself with a box cutter,” was the explanation, “It’s hard to cut ropes with a bound hand.”

“I can imagine so,” Medic replied.

There was a long silence, filled only by shuffling. Spy wondered if he should go in there. Though he had no excuse, as he had no injuries from the last few minutes of fighting. If he went in there, the Medic would know that he was there specifically for the Soldier. As if it had not been made clear enough to him, even the drunken Scot knew about what seemed to be a basic arrangement, though with no actual formality.

In his moments of self-war, he almost missed the rest of the conversation. He indubitably did not want to miss what Andrew had to say when he thought the Spy was not around. He might well say something he did not mean to say, or say something he would not say around Spy.

“You do not think the Spy would have poisoned me, do you?” Andrew asked, with worry in his voice.

“No, I don’t think so,” the Medic assured him, “For you are neither dead nor respawned. It is unlikely.”

“What about a tracker of some kind?” Andrew pressed.

“No,” the Medic spoke slower, “I don’t think he did that either.”

“Well, why would he tie me up and keep me in a closet, doc? I don’t understand it!” Andrew exclaimed with frustration, “He had every capability of killing me! Even torturing me! He did not do any of that!”

“Well…in the line of work as a Medic for men of…particular stature…I have found that the best form of interrogation is without torture,” he shrugged, “Don’t even touch them with needle or knife. They will tell you more than you ever needed to know.”

“You don’t think he got what he needed out of me. Do you, doc?” Andrew exclaimed with fear.

There was some hesitation from the Medic. He did not seem sure how to answer that, without disturbing his patient, “Well…there’s no real way to tell. We are not within means of assessing what he was after, but surely he did not get anything from you?”

“I didn’t answer any of his questions!” Andrew declared proudly.

“Ah, good,” the Medic pretended to be relieved.

Spy sighed, thinking over the day’s events. The RED Spy had been up to something peculiar. What was he after? It had to do with Spy himself and the Soldier. His only fear-filled conclusion was that the Spy had sniffed out their feelings for one another and was securing the truth before putting any plans underway.

“That RED will rue the day he thought about crossing the BLU team!” he heard Andrew declare, in that proud voice.

Spy sighed as he took his leave, assured that Andrew was alright. He was seeking medical attention, at least for rope burns if nothing else. He would be alright in the infirmary, until he was ready to come to the smoking room of his own accord. Spy would simply have to wait for the time to come for his Soldier to turn up. He was a patient man, after all.

 

When Andrew did knock on the door, it was half past eleven at night. Spy was still in the smoking room, enjoying a cigar as he read over the results of the day’s fight. He had an entire list of kills, mixed in with the names of REDs who had killed him. It was a little give and a little take on the battlefield after all, and if he did not assess it, he would never learn from his mistakes and get better.

He set this aside to rise to the occasion. He was on his feet and fully turned to the door when it opened. Andrew peeped inside, curious as to whether or not the Spy was even present. When he found him alone in the room, he creeped inside and carefully shut the door behind him. It was like he was trying very hard not to wake mice in the walls.

“Is there a particular reason for which you are sneaking?” the Spy asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Andrew gave him a look of uncertainty, “No!”

“Then please, come and join me,” Spy motioned to the couch, onto which he plopped himself down. There was plenty of room for Andrew to pick his own space.

When Andrew did sit down, he placed himself as close to Spy as possible. This pleased him, as he snaked his arm right over the man’s shoulders. It felt nice that they were this comfortable together. It felt nice, but the reward was short-lived, when he thought of what he needed to do.

He was a Spy first and foremost. Working for Builders League United as their disguised agent was never easy, but he never asked for his line of work to be simple. Things could never be simple and to the point. He could never have a moment of peace to himself, if he was to perform his work correctly.

While he would not let the RED Spy win, he would not let his work ruin him either. He had to be careful and that meant that certain things had to be fixed. When the time came, the two of them would be together again, but for now, he had to lead the RED Spy off the trail.

“Andrew, we need to talk,” he spoke in as casual a tone as he could manage.

He did not like this, he did not like telling him like this. This all felt wrong and silly. They should not have to hide just because they were men, or because an enemy might find out this little weakness they had for each other.

Still, he was an adult and a Spy. He had no choice in the matter of love, when it came to choosing whether to give the RED Spy his fuel or not. If BLU Spy were to do this correctly, he would have the last laugh.

“What is it?” Andrew gave him a concerned look.

He made sure to give the man a content smile. This might be the last time in a long time that they would be this close and contented together. He would have to cherish every moment of it for now.

“Today’s incident…was…something we could not control,” the Spy explained.

“You like being in control,” Andrew noted, much to Spy’s chagrin, “Maybe a little too much. But, Medic told me about your plans today. Organized chaos was a good plan. You did real good!”

Spy bit back the choice words he had for that and gave him a smile. He forced his way through the moment of frustration, and desire to push off the patronizing offense. He needed to be careful with his words if this was to go well. He did not want to hurt Andrew in the process of this. He wanted him to know that he still cared, enough to want him to come back to his private quarters, of which nobody else in the entire base knew about.

He settled himself down and tried again, “I need you to listen to me and understand, Andrew. I need you to understand what I am saying and take it for what it is. I don’t want you to think that it is because I have lost any feelings for you.” His fingers touched the man’s opposite shoulder and he used them to squeeze, hopefully in a comforting manner. "I want you to know that nothing has changed for me. I still feel the way I felt about you two days ago.”

“I do too, Jacques!” Andrew grinned at him. That made him chuckle.

“Then understand that this is only coming from a place of concern when I say that we need to take a break,” he spoke slowly and carefully. He criticized his every word, wishing he could take it back a moment after it was spoken.

“What?” Andrew’s frown left his heart in his shoes, “What are you saying?”

Spy adjusted the frown, switching it out for a concerned look, “Mon ami, nothing has changed.” He laid his free hand on his own chest. “I still feel the same. But, after today, we have to be more careful.”

“Then- bu- wh-why do we have to take a break?” Andrew’s lower lip stuck out a bit in a pout.

Spy sighed, looking at the lip with slight interest, “After tonight, we need to pretend that we are very distant. We have been very close these past weeks, and the others have caught onto us.”

“The others? What do you mean?” Andrew’s cheeks started glowing red.

“The Demoman knows,” Spy offered, “And the RED Spy now knows.” Andrew’s face grew redder at that. “It is only a matter of time before the rest of the fools catch up,” Spy explained, “I don’t want the RED Spy to have something against us though.”

“What does he have against us?” the sudden flare in Andrew’s tone made Spy jump a little. There was such anger, passion and determination aflame in his voice when he spoke. “I’m not afraid of him! And neither should you be! We’re not lower than him just because we like men!”

He put a hand on Andrew’s cheek, calming him down a little. He procured a small smile on his own face, in hopes of bringing Andrew’s behavior back down to a state of calm. If he could keep him calm, maybe he could keep the moments of hallucinations and blacking out at bay.

“I’m not saying that,” Spy insisted, “But I don’t want him to hurt you to get to me.”

Andrew mulled over that. He could see it by the way his jaw was moving around, wanting to say something. When nothing was spoken, Spy decided to continue.

“Just as you would not want me to be hurt so he could get to you, oui?” he offered.

Andrew nodded in agreement, “Yes…you’re right.” There was such despair and helplessness in his tone when he spoke these words.

“I assure you,” Spy cupped his chin, forcing his face towards his own, “This won’t be forever. It will not even last long.”

He looked Andrew’s face up and down. His skin felt hot from rage. His lower lip was still pursed in an indignant pout. His eyes darted away beneath a scrunched down brow.

He could only smile, looking upon a man he had only felt for within the past few months. And to think they had worked together for over thirty years. Now he looked at his face and only wanted to kiss him.

“But…enough about loneliness,” he gave in to gently peck at Andrew’s indignant lip. That surprised the Soldier a little bit. “That can begin tomorrow, after we’ve spent the evening together.”

Andrew’s mouth turned up in a grin, as Spy pressed up against him. For once it felt nice to do a bit of the pushing, as Andrew was typically the one taking charge. Still, the kisses were made best by the taste of a man whose arms felt thicker than his body when they pulled him in tightly.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew lounged on the couch pondering what he would do. What could he do? He was being pushed away by the man he wanted so badly, a man who claimed still loved him in return. It hurt to see those feelings go to waste like this.

Under his arm, the Spy laid snuggled against him. He did not think it was intentional, but Spy had dozed off against his side. It was rather late already; an hour or so of kissing had led them to simply sit there on the couch, breathless and sweating against their clothes and each other.

Given they were still in the smoking room, Andrew figured undressing was not an option, at least not for Spy. Whatever he was afraid of could not have been too serious, but Andrew would not risk Spy’s frustrations for the sake of seeing the skin beneath his jacket and shirt.

He took a deep breath, breathing in the smoke of the air. Spy tasted like cigar this evening. It was a heady but rare taste that made him crave a cigar himself. Maybe when the Spy roused he could ask for one.

Nah, he should not. It was very late and he should be off to bed. He could ask for a cigar at a later time, he was sure.

Yet, they were not supposed to be close anymore. They were supposed to keep their distance from each other, to lead the RED off their trail. He certainly did not want RED Spy to have their information and something to use against them.

At the same time, who cared? What could the RED Spy do to either of them that they could not handle? What could they possibly not stand? If it was torture, then Andrew could handle it on his own body. He knew Spy was tolerant of pain too, having trained up for the position of a man put through torture.

Neither one of them were afraid. Andrew was certain that Spy was not actually afraid. Spy was literally afraid of nothing. He could not be. A man that fierce? He had no fear in his blood. He had to be a cold blooded creature seeking warmth in Andrew’s arms. With that came the lack of emotion that Spy had shown earlier in the evening.

It was not fair to say he was without emotion. Spy did smile. He did show concern. He did try to comfort Andrew when he got upset. He was not without a caring streak within his body.

Still, it made his blood boil more – as if to compensate – when Spy simply showed no passion or anger for their situation. It was an unfair situation and they should storm the RED base to shut that sneak up. In fact, that was something Andrew wanted to do. It would be a pleasure to do it. He could just go in there, sneak past the majority of the team, and beat the living crap out of their Spy.

He had no qualms with the rest of RED team anyways. At least, he did not have any beef with them yet. He just wanted that RED to pay for what he had done, and to stop whatever he was planning on doing. He would make him regret everything, and make him think twice about ever crossing the BLU Soldier ever again.

That was a good sentiment for Andrew. He smiled broadly at the thought. The idea of a bloodied French face looking up at him from swollen eyes and broken teeth. That would be a good look for the RED Spy.

BLU Spy pissed people off too sometimes. That stray thought mingled with what he had been thinking about and he could not help but imagine the bloodied face being his own Spy. His heart lurched with pain at the thought. He looked at the man under his arm with concern for him.

He scrunched his brow as he thought about it. He was not with rose colored glasses, he knew that the BLU Spy was just as hated and maybe even sneakier than the RED Spy. It was without doubt that he probably hit somebody’s hit list from time to time. It was not far off to think that Spy was somehow on somebody’s mind, as a punching bag, the likes of which Andrew thought of the RED Spy.

Somehow that did not seem possible. Because, at the same time, Spy was his Spy; Spy was his love and his little slice of heaven in this hell of war. It could not seriously be the whole truth that Spy was just as hated by somebody as the RED was hated by both Andrew and BLU Spy.

All he knew for sure was that he hated the RED Spy. When he saw the man in the morning, if he saw him at all, given he might hide, he would give the Frenchman a good walloping. He would give him a classic American style ass kicking, the likes of which he had never seen.

That thought made Andrew smile. He felt a little bit better. Though that better feeling would have been even better if he had a cigar to enjoy it with. That would be just perfect for the occasion. With Spy under his arm no less.

He looked down at the other man again, curious at his sleepy reactions to Andrew’s thoughts. He was sure that he was probably muttering to himself or something, probably not even realizing what he was doing. He did that often when he was getting too into his own head. Getting stuck there was always difficult to come out of, usually he had a rocket or a bullet ricochet near him to get his mind off of whatever was making him spiral inwardly.

This time though, he had Spy under his arm. All he needed was that little shift and the little sigh in his sleep. It was kind of adorable to watch. The man was a soft sleeper, meaning he made very little noise. He curled up into himself, trying to make himself small as he sought the heat he was laying against, like he could not get warm enough. The man’s body was definitely warm as it was, making Andrew feel even warmer. After a couple hours of heated kissing, Andrew felt like he really needed to cool off, yet he could not bring himself to move and disturb the thinner man from his sleep.

The gloved hand moved across his stomach, tickling his belly beneath the back brace. He gently laid his own hand over the hand, with a smile. He would miss this. Just being able to hold somebody felt great. Holding a hand felt fantastic. And if those two hours were going to be their only kissing for who knew how long, Andrew hoped it was enough to get him by. It was no wonder that Spy had acted so passionately and fervent during.

Fingers curled up beneath his hand, grabbing at Andrew’s shirt. They did not tighten down on the intended target, but somehow took comfort in having the cloth in their grip. He wondered what Spy was dreaming about, and if it involved Andrew in any way. He imagined Spy dreaming of him, probably of the kissing. Maybe he was dreaming that he was grabbing onto the front of his shirt and pulling him close.

He smirked at the thought, imagining how he might respond in Spy’s dreams. Maybe Spy thought of him as a bit more submissive in his dreams. Maybe he was the one who obeyed all of the unspoken commands. Of course, maybe he was just loud and Spy wanted to kiss the words away with his tongue.

He could not argue with the fact that the Frenchman really did know how to kiss well. He could use his tongue in ways that Andrew did not think were physically possible. It had certainly taught him a thing or two. Just the past two hours had been very educational for him in that department.

Suddenly, the body beneath his arm stirred. The face shifted, the nose tucking in against his shirt. Andrew winced, wishing he was not all sweaty and had had a shower in the past forty-eight hours. He was probably the worst smelling at the moment. Granted, for a man who smoked all of the time, Spy probably did not have a very good sense of smell left in him.

Spy opened his eyes groggily and looked up. He took a moment to recover, before straightening himself up. He did not push Andrew’s arm away, but he shifted out of his position tucked up against his side. His face turned red as he tried to straighten his tie.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to fall asleep,” Spy spoke sheepishly.

Andrew thought that was really darn cute and gave him a smile, “Not at all. I enjoyed your company right here beside me.”

Spy gave him a smile and motioned to the clock. It was near two in the morning already. The time really did get away from Andrew, but given this would be their last night together in a long time – an undetermined amount of time – Andrew did not care either way. He did not need so much sleep as he needed time spent with the Spy. There was simply not enough time, not enough time for him and not enough time for Spy. He needed more of it, and he needed it with Spy.

“It’s getting late,” the Spy said.

Andrew frowned, wanting to protest, “It’s kind of…late to meander back to my room.” He felt heat rise to his cheeks, hoping that the Spy would take him up on his hint.

Spy shook his head instead, “No. You need to wake up in your bed, in your room. Okay? No more visits to my room. Not even the smoking room. Stay away from it for right now. Don’t give anybody any ideas.”

Andrew felt his heart sink farther at that. He could not help feeling a little more depressed at the thought. He had been feeling good, imagining beating RED Spy to a bloody pulp, as well as thinking about the BLU Spy beside him. But this just beat that all down like a kicked puppy.

He almost retaliated, but he bit his lip. Do not say a thing, he told himself. He would not blurt any stupid thing that came not from his mind but from his mouth. He would not let himself be that dumb sounding.

“Good night, Soldier,” Spy said, in a formal tone.

Andrew climbed off of the couch, taking his jacket with him. He draped it over his left arm and saluted with the right hand. “Good night, Spy.” He turned and marched from the smoking room, leaving the Spy behind.

He headed straight to his room. Being that it was two in the morning, nobody was awake. Perhaps Demo had retired to his room for drinking. Otherwise, there was nobody around to run into on his way back to his own space, where he could collapse in a self-pitying heap of frustration on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...  
> Andrew will make RED Spy pay for that one, won't he?  
> I am going to be starting livestreams of writing. Right now, I am working on this particular fic.  
> It is labeled as adult, because I do not sensor my mouth. Or my characters' mouths. In fact, let's just have an unsensored vid of nonsense! No? Well, okay then.  
> https://www.twitch.tv/madoushi_ryuu


	22. The Torture of Bitterness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RED Spy looks at his intel with a small sense of guilt. Andrew grows bitter over the following months.

RED Spy dropped the intel he had gathered for Mann Co onto the desk. All of his notes had been compiled into this folder, and here he was handing it over quite willingly. He could not think of a time in his professional career, back in a time when he did not work for this type of low life company, when he would have reduced himself to the form of mole as companies used.

He was the kind of person who could kill without a second thought, so why would he work for them so willingly? He knew why. It all came back to the programs they ran being the funding towards their highly advanced technology. Without it, he would be dead already. 

At this point, it did not matter. He was too deep in the thick of it already. There was simply no going back, especially since the alternative was either a slow death like normal people, or a quick one from the men who would be hunting him for the rest of that life. Mann Co may have changed its views, but it did not change its roots.

“What is this?” the man at the head of the table demanded. Behind the desk, Miss Pauling rose from her seat to address the producer as well as the Spy. “I don’t want to see paper, I want to see results!” the producer demanded.

Spy turned to Miss Pauling, with a raised eyebrow. The young woman did not flinch, gazing down the producer with a sharp look in her eyes. Age had not taken to her as much as it should have over the decades, but it did show in the gray roots popping up in hidden spots by her ears. It was more aging than the Scout, given that the woman did not die every day to be claimed by respawn.

Spy looked down at the file he had dropped, “I found that the BLU Soldier and the BLU Spy are in a relationship. This holds notes and pieces of evidence of the relationship.”

“What’s so important about this?” Miss Pauling asked the room. She was not directing it at Spy, staring instead at her fingertips pressed wide across the desk.

The producer at the table harrumphed with disgust, “A Soldier? A gay Soldier?” He harrumphed again.

Spy gave Miss Pauling a questioning look. He did not know the producers as well as Miss Pauling did, and he had been advised in the past not to engage them. They did not see Spies and other handlers as people or even employees, they were mesmerized by the “characters” they played. They were some other worldly being to the producers.

“Nobody wants to watch a gay Soldier,” the Producer steepled his fingers, trying to look melancholy or thoughtful or something. It was a failure on his part.

“Have you asked the demographics?” Miss Pauling asked.

“We don’t need to ask,” the producer waved a hand dismissively, “The demographic is men between thirty five and sixty. We don’t need to ask _them_ about their opinions, they’re pretty obvious.”

Miss Pauling finally met Spy’s gaze for a moment, before looking over to the producer, “We cannot simply assume the political and moral opinions of a demographic. That’s for the research team, is it not?”

“It’s a waste of time and money,” the producer argued dismissively.

“What does Mr. Eldrich Mann have to say about it?” she asked.

Spy paused, mulling over the name. This one got passed around quite often. Eldrich seemed to be in charge of the financial branch of Mann Co Productions. He had a large say in what happened, considering he held the largest portion of the company, and ran the financial sector no less.

The producer grumbled at her argument, “Eldrich will see reason. He will know that we do not need to waste money on such trivial things.”

“You’re suggesting what then? Because I’m not willing to displace any of the members of RED or BLU without finding out more details,” Miss Pauling pressed her palms down onto the desk.

Spy studied her thoughtfully. She had not been so heated and protective over anybody since the Administrator. The woman had been some form of role model to the younger woman. That much had been clear to Spy. But in terms of all of this, he was not sure why she was being protective of the men at the forts, or why.

The producer sighed with irritation, waving off her words. How frustrating indeed. Spy kind of liked seeing this side of Miss Pauling. She was passionate about what she was doing. In this moment, she was especially defensive. RED Spy thought that perhaps if it were him on the chopping block, he would like knowing that she fought so fervently for him.

“What are your thoughts, Spy?” the producer suddenly said.

Spy looked immediately to Miss Pauling, his back facing the producer. He did not fear the man. Rather he thought less of him. He was just some man with money who wanted to run the show. Miss Pauling was the real man running the show. She knew how to work the ropes around this business, and she knew how everything worked.

Her eyes raised to him with a plea. He could have laughed in most cases. If an enemy gave him such pleading eyes, he would have received a malicious laugh and an extra hour of torture. Plea to a Spy? That was a foolish thing to do, even Miss Pauling knew that.

But Miss Pauling was trying to save somebody. The producer would simply displace a man, thinking less of him for his position. Who was Spy to judge though? The man was surely not very likeable. He tended to yell a lot. He could not have charmed the BLU Spy easily. Perhaps they got together over a drunken accident. That sounded more likely.

And it was not like this was the first instance of homosexuality around RED Spy. This was just the first reported. How had the BLU Spy become so clumsy? Sure they were enemies, but there was something to be admired in his superior. He could not think less of the BLU Spy for his team’s shortcomings, as the BLU team lost, but that was for various unrelated reasons.

The BLU Spy was clever, a bit wiser than RED Spy by a few years. In another time in another place, RED Spy could have sworn they worked together in Germany. But that would be a story untold, if only he could see the man’s face. He wondered if the BLU thought of him in the same light.

But, it sounded like they were concerned about the Soldier being a homosexual. That would be a problem for the Soldier, not so much the Spy. That worried Spy a little less, who would only prefer having a challenging enemy Spy around to keep him on his toes.

Regardless of who it was – Soldier or Spy – Miss Pauling was begging for help from Spy to keep them off the chopping block. That pained look in her eyes tried to dig into some moral ingrained deep in his bones, buried too far to harm him from his many sins. She wanted to keep those men afloat, for what reason he did not know.

He turned, taking the opportunity to gaze down haughtily at the man at the table. There was something giddy alight in the man’s eyes. He was like a grown child. Spy could probably call him names and tell him to fuck off, and the man would still have that delighted glint in his eyes. It was almost entertaining, but that was for another time.

“There is a chance that the evidence is leading far wrong,” he shrugged, “There is a chance that they are simply very close friends.”

He heard Miss Pauling breathe a sigh of relief behind him. That was good to note. He was helping her out. He was helping the BLUs out as well. If nothing else, this built up good points with Miss Pauling, just in case it were him to come to the chopping block.

He pondered on how such a clever man as the BLU Spy could have slipped up so badly. Perhaps it was just that he was spending so much time with the Soldier. The loud obnoxious American was nothing if not rude and bombastic, everything a Spy was not. Being French, like RED Spy himself, he had refined tastes – though it seemed that perhaps that was not always the case.

It was not as if the RED Medic and RED Heavy had come up to the chopping block before. They must either have been ignored, or they had yet to be discovered. Perhaps it was just expected of them to have such a close relationship. It was not as if they ever kissed within viewing range of a camera. They kept that personal relationship enclosed to their private quarters.

None of the other REDs questioned it. None of them seemed to notice. Spy noticed though, the two men spent more personal time together than BLU’s Medic and Heavy. There was a time that he had suspected the BLU Heavy, but found that the BLU Medic was more chaste than any man he had ever met. The man could not even be coaxed into attraction with a pretty girl, let alone some fat balding mercenary.

“But to assume that viewers don’t want to see something…” RED shrugged again, glancing at Miss Pauling.

That was what his entire life came down to now. Once upon a time, he thought that it was about the intelligence gathering that they did every weekday. To think that the battling was pointless was sad. He had put so much effort into it for years, and now all he had was the reality that some people watching his life could decide his fate based on whether they liked what he was doing or not.

“Is there not a chance that the Soldier’s unique nature could not be interesting for viewers?” Spy offered.

“We have suggested separate viewing,” Miss Pauling’s eyes lit up, as her mind worked out the kinks in this plan, “The battling and violence during one half of the day, with drama and whatnot during the rest of the day. Or vice versa even.”

“Just like a woman to think of that,” the producer rolled his eyes with irritation, “Fine. We’ll do the research.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mann,” Miss Pauling said, with a relieved sigh.

“In the meantime, I want a lid on this,” the producer pointed to the picture on the table, which showed the BLU Soldier walking and talking with the BLU Spy.

RED Spy peered over at it and regretted he did. The two looked very happy together. They were walking and talking, like there was nothing else in the world. Soldier had a big shit eating grin on his face, like there was nothing else that mattered in the world. The Spy looked happy too, his eyes cast down at the Soldier with a look of pure fondness.

No, this was not a friendship. A gaze like that bespoke love and affection. Whatever the BLU Spy found in the BLU Soldier, it was not just friendly chats like this. It did not help that their friendly chats probably helped them get by during the day.

“In the meantime,” the producer interrupted his thoughts, “I would like for you to research these two.” The man tapped the picture. “Find out if they are really together or not. I want this whole nonsense wrapped up and the truth laid out so we can stop dancing aroudn the issue.” He shot Miss Pauling a warning glare.

Miss Pauling said nothing as she escorted the Spy from the meeting room. She said nothing to him all the way down. She did not even seem to be breathing. She just walked quietly and rigidly, trying not to look at anything or anybody, even the Spy.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew woke the next morning with a slight headache from not enough sleep. He needed more sleep, but the soldier in him told him that he needed to get up and get ready for the day. He could not lollygag like everybody else could.

When he came down to respawn, he had to do everything in his power to look away from Spy. Knowing in the back of his mind that he was not allowed to be close to him only made him want to draw nearer. Every time they came close to each other on the battlefield, Andrew had to make himself go the other way.

It ended with another bitter defeat for BLU. This was nothing new for them. Why would they expect it to be any different?

Still, Andrew was surprised by a few less–than–stellar expressions on the faces of his colleagues. It was as if disaster had struck after everything was just starting to go right. They had not acted this way when things went back to normal after the new year. Surely they should not expect one day’s win to be a miracle.

 

The day after that was another struggle. Andrew had to keep his composure and not look to the Spy. He could not even begin to fathom how he would act if he allowed himself to be close to the man. So, he hid himself away at every chance he had. He just kept his distance.

It was still another lose for BLU as well. The team sulked over it, though not as much as the day before. They seemed to get the picture that they were on the losing side again.

 

March, 2001

The Spring showers poured in droves. The muck and mud was horrendous. Every day was spent trying to slick muck off of one’s boots and pants. Each day was spent splashing around, trying to get out of the splashing, only to have more muck and water splatter the uniforms.

This base quickly became stagnant. A different place with warmer climate was most desirable. For Andrew, he just wanted everything to be dryer. Rocket jumping in and out of mud was neither pleasant nor easy. It led to a lot of broken and fractured bones in his legs too.

Still, Spy had said nothing to him. He could only assume in silence that they were still distant from each other. Nothing was going to change for them so far. They were just going to ignore each other, while wondering whether or not the RED Spy was watching over their shoulders.

Every day became the same, each day was spent fighting. Each day was spent trying to avoid the Spy. Each day was spent trying to make sense of the whole arrangement between him and the Spy, while not being able to talk to him.

 

May, 2001

The raining did not get harsher, it just became constant. It was like tears falling upon the earth. It gave Andrew a sense of comfort now, as if he was not alone in how he felt. The weather would weep with him.

But now, as the days became longer and brighter, and Spy became a distant dream, Andrew became disillusioned. What could ever change this situation? What could change what’s between them? He looked up at the sky and saw some ray of sunshine, a bit of happiness forgotten to him.

If anything was going to change, it would have by now. It was simple as that. Andrew knew that.

 

June, 2001

Andrew figured he should be thankful. Everything had gone back to the way it was. Everything was simple now. Everything was just like it was supposed to be.

Everybody avoided him, as they used to do regularly. Demoman was the only exception, buddying up with him during a battle, and calling him over for a drink. But, more often than not, the Demoman was being called by the other mercenaries, and thus surrounded himself with too many friends to pay much more attention to the Soldier.

He could go back to his private thoughts again. He could go back to just pretending his yelling was normal. He could be himself without worrying about hurting the feelings of somebody close to him.

Everything was simplified, the way it was supposed to be. Scout avoided him, instead of him trying to avoid Scout – it was easier that way. He went about each day as noisily and boisterously as possibly, so that at the end of the day, he could enjoy the earned quiet. He did not have to worry about what he could do to grab Spy’s attention. He did not even have to worry about whether the Spy might decide that today was the day that they would be safe again.

That day was never coming. Andrew understood that. Andrew knew that. There was no easy way to swallow it. Still, it would have been nice to get some justification from the Frenchman himself. They were hardly even friends anymore, certainly not acquaintances.

July 4, 2001

He had not realized that so much time had gone by. In fact, he had not tracked the days. He did not care anymore. It was not like it was once upon a time. Things were simpler this way. He could be forgotten and people could forget how stupid he was, in the midst of his invisible existence.

That did not stop the Scout from being boisterously adorable. Andrew could have cried. After months of not having spoken to the boy, he looked upon the kid’s display of fireworks, sparklers and other American flag colored apparel with a heavy and painful heart.

“Happy fourth, Soldier!” Scout said, with a big awkward smile. He was trying, for what Andrew could not be sure.

“Thanks kid,” was all he could muster, as he picked up an unlit sparkler to look at it.

“I got a bunch of rockets and stuff!” the youth said cheerfully, “Wanna go blow stuff up?”

“We’ll just be a bother,” Andrew waved off the idea, “It’ll result in catastrophe, like last year.”

Scout stopped to think, studying Andrew thoughtfully. He did not seem to think this was all that impossible. At the same time, he looked a little worried. Andrew hoped it was Scout realizing that this fireworks stuff was much too dangerous.

“You used to be fun,” the Scout finally said, after a long silence.

Andrew looked over at him, with a bland stare. He pulled his cap down low to hide his eyes the way a helmet would. He trudged off to his room, hoping that Demoman might join the Scout for his pyrotechnics. He was in no mood to try and be the bombastic American he was. He could still be proud of his country and shout about it on the battlefield, but his enthusiasm generally waned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the people we think are villainous are actually kind of human.


	23. BLU Spy Can’t Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLU Spy only longs more and more for Soldier to come back to him. He is waiting so patiently for the warning signs to pass, but he is still not sure what the RED is up to. Even upon confronting him, BLU Spy is only more confused by the riddles surrounding the forest cameras and the Sniper.

March 2001

BLU Spy looked over his shoulder to see Andrew getting his rocket launcher cleaned up. The man seemed to sense him nearby and gave him a nasty sneer. Was that really necessary? They were supposed to be distant, but not enemies. This was not the way it was supposed to be.

He thought about talking to him, maybe getting him to settle down would make things alright. They could ease their way slowly into being friends again. But, when he got close, the Soldier was all too eager to give him the nastiest glare and storm off.

What had he done? Had he lost Andrew? It made his heart sink to feel that he may have screwed up their future together. All he wanted to do was reach out and touch Andrew’s face, to remind him that he was loved, but that felt like a death wish waiting to come true.

 

April 2001

Nothing had changed. Andrew still acted nasty and avoided Spy at every turn. Surely nothing had really changed between them? It seemed that with each and every passing day they grew farther apart, but not in the usual way. Spy grew weary of the loneliness and watched with sadness in his eyes as his Soldier became more and more distant and aggressive towards him. He looked back on the night they said farewell, but could not see this bitterness in the Soldier. This was altogether different.

Perhaps this was Andrew’s way of handling being distant though. He could not handle being friendly without giving Spy that goosey smile. He could not handle being _just acquaintances_. He had to do something to distract himself from Spy. That had to be the reasoning behind it all.

Spy still worried though. He fretted on his own, never telling anybody else. He just watched from around corners and within shadows. He never let Andrew or anybody else see that he was watching the Soldier. He had to have even a little piece of Andrew, but watching him was all he could have, and even that was starting to make him ache more, as he saw how Andrew became lonelier on his own.

He tried to confide in the Sniper once. But that did not work out. That was a failure that he barely avoided.

They were having drinks at the bar, seeking the loneliness it brought them. Well, save for the barkeep and a local drunk - they just wanted to be away from the other mercenaries.

“You and that uh...Soldier...you haven’t been doing quite right, have ya?” Sniper noted.

“We have fallen short of acquaintances, if that is what you mean,” Spy offered.

The Sniper shifted in his seat. He was never comfortable with social situations that pushed boundaries. He was not sure how to act or react to certain situations.

“You uh...you two have a fight?” Sniper asked, “Or something like that?”

“Something like that,” Spy raised the beer to his lips. It was bitter, but he needed something to cover the reasoning why his eyes were starting to water. “Nasty drink,” he gave a disgusted noise from the back of his throat.

“Good riddance,” the Sniper growled.

Spy gave him a surprised look that made the Sniper laugh. He paused to take a sip of his beer, before turning to face the Spy squarely. It seemed he had a lot more to say on the matter.

“Look, if the bloke can’t see what a good friend you are, that ain’t your problem or mine,” Sniper lifted the bottle to motion to Spy with it, “That’s his problem. His problem ‘cause he doesn’t see what he’s got.”

Spy grumbled with frustration. He remembered now why he never talked to Glenn about Soldier and all of those problems. He could have slipped it all in and the man would be none the wiser that they were in love or wanted each other. But the Sniper was even more dense to the subject than Spy could have expected a normal man to be. He was never the one to pick up on what was really going on, and if Spy had to explain it, things would only be for the worse.

“Never mind it,” the Spy insisted, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“That’s alright,” Sniper turned back to the bar, “Fine by me. I just…wanna be a good friend, is all.”

Spy gave him a sidelong glance, but said nothing more. He sipped on the bitter bear, letting it create more tears that he quickly wiped away. It was cover for the sorrow he needed to spill over his drying heart.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Sniper was growing worried every day. At first, he did not believe Melisa. She could be the type to worry a bit too much, especially for men who were used to being killed every day. She would have babied all of the mercenaries if she was allowed by the bases. But, now he was starting to see it himself.

It did not take binoculars to see the Soldier become a nasty, mean son of a bitch. And that correlated right along with Spy’s changes as well. Spy did not become mean or nasty. On the contrary, he became almost softer. He winced at loud noises and looked like he was going to cry sometimes.

He hated bitter drinks. He preferred sweet wines and champagne. So when he finished not one but two bottles of beer, it was only affirmation of Sniper’s worries. Whether the tears were for the bitter taste – Spy was never good with those kinds of drinks – or the friendship he lost, Sniper could see that something was very wrong. And try as he might, he did try his best, he did not know how to fix his friend without doing something about the Soldier.

How do you approach a man you rarely ever talk to? You do not simply gallivant up to his personal space and tell him to get over whatever he is doing. Especially not to the red blooded American called Soldier. And as of late, he had become meaner than his RED counterpart, rendering him less pleasant than ever before. Now more than ever, Sniper wished he knew Soldier a little better so he knew how to talk to him.

What could an anti-social outdoorsman like him do though? He was not good with people – not like Spy. He could not read faces well, so he got along just fine with Spy. But the overly expressive, loudly shouting, hooting and hollering Soldier was too much for his senses. He reminded Sniper of big cities, bigger than the one Melisa was living in – Melisa would always be his exception for tolerating things he disliked.

Approaching the Soldier outright resulted in the generic shouting. That was weird, given he usually only shouted like that on the battlefield. He was starting to sound like a robot or something.

Approaching him while he was drunk resulted in awkward silence. The Soldier did not hardly talk when he was drunk anymore. That was weird, considering he remembered the Demoman mentioning that he was most talkative when he was drunk, kind of like how Sniper was.

He tried talking to him through the Demoman himself, the only other person on the team who could seem to get along with him anymore. He would not risk the young Scout’s health for dealing with this Soldier.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with him,” the Demoman told him.

“I just need your help a bit, mate,” Sniper explained, “If there’s something going wrong, we need to fix it. It does affect our winnings and what not.”

“Aye,” the Demo sighed, “But I can’t tell ye what’s going on.”

“What?” Sniper felt momentarily surprised, “You know something about what’s going on?”

Demo looked around the room cautiously, then waved him to come closer. Sniper leaned in, hoping that this would not be for nothing. If the Demoman had a few too many beers already, he could be getting ready to have his own rant. That was not something Sniper was willing to stick around for. He would walk right out and head for his camper if that were to happen.

“I cannot tell you the truth parse,” Demo explained slowly and softly, “But, I can tell you that they were close. I don’t know why but they’re not allowed together. And that’s made Soldier bitter and angry.”

Sniper’s eyebrows had raised high. Part of that he understood already, but the rest was surprising. Bitterness would explain Soldier’s temperament. It did not really explain how Spy was behaving though.

“He told you that?” he asked, cautiously.

“Nah,” Demo shook his head, “He don’t have to. He’s kinda easy to figure out, for a fella wearin’ a helmet over his eyes. It’s not so hard to figure out once you see what I’m talking about.”

Sniper nodded slowly and glanced around the room. He would hate for Spy to walk in just as they were talking about him. The last thing he needed was for Spy to get pissy at him.

“And what’s it gonna take to get them back together?” Sniper asked, quieter this time.

“I don’t know,” Demo lowered his voice again, “I can’t say the team’s faring well with the two of them split apart like that though.”

“Does anybody else know?” Sniper looked around the room at the other mercenaries. They seemed so blissfully unaware of the Soldier’s and the Spy’s troubles.

“Not that I know of,” Demoman shrugged, “Though not too many of them care. I doubt they’d do anything about it. Soldier’s not the easiest to get along. Spy’s not the easiest to befriend.”

“Here here to that,” Sniper chuckled, noting his friend’s sneaky and irritating tendencies.

“What are we toasting to?” the Medic came over with a big grin and an empty mug for a refill.

“Nothing but good health, mate,” Demo chuckled.

“That’s my job!” Medic joked as the Demoman refilled his drink.

 

*********************************************************************

 

May 2001

RED Spy was cleaning his ambassador, when he heard a knock at the door, “Go away.”

“It’s me,” Miss Pauling’s soft voice came from behind the door. She carefully pushed the door open to let herself peek inside.

He sighed as he rose from his work, pulling down his sleeves, “What can I do for you, Miss Pauling?”

She had a clipboard dangling from one hand and a large pistol, one too big for a woman her size, holstered at her hip. She looked both adorable and dangerous at the same time. Perhaps that was the look she was going for all along.

“I…was wondering…if you knew anything more about the BLU Soldier and the BLU Spy,” she said, with a hesitant smile.

He paused, as he eyed her worrisome expression, “The only changes I have seen are that they broke up and are anything but loving towards one another. Your producer can rest assured that they are not likely to do it again.”

He was bluffing. He did not know what the two would do. They might have had a fight and were just taking a long time to get over it. Or perhaps it was all a show. Perhaps it was a way to attempt to throw the RED Spy off. He would not be fooled of their feelings, but he was sure it would be good enough to fool the producers. Let them continue pretending.

“I just…I feel so terrible,” Miss Pauling sighed.

“Terrible? About what?” Spy gave her a questioning look.

“I’ve watched over some of the footage,” she turned slightly, unable to meet his gaze. She looked ashamed and saddened. “It’s easy to see what blossomed between them,” she explained, “But, that just makes it crueler that they would do this to them.”

“I see,” the Spy paused to scratch at his jaw, where the balaclava was making his skin sweat. It was warm in this room, given there were no windows to air it out. “I will keep my eye on them for now,” he assured her, “And if nothing else, I will attempt to keep them off the cameras.”

She gave him a smile of gratitude, but her expression had yet to change completely. She was still worried about something. There was something like an idea in those eyes though.

“Something I can help you with?” he asked, intrigued.

“I’m just worried is all,” she told him dismissively, “I mean, up until this point mercenaries have only gotten away with things by knowing. You know…knowing what you know.”

He nodded slowly, “Knowing things about this company has made it easier to manipulate the system, I agree.”

“Then you understand,” she stated.

There was a long silence as they gazed at each other. She gave him a final nod and headed back to the door. She was not going to say anything more, until she suddenly remembered something.

“Do remember that telling somebody outright about classified Mann Co information is not permitted by your contract,” she warned, before closing the door behind him.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself as he headed back to his work, “This is going to be a problem.”

 

The next day, Spy found the BLU Spy puttering around. It was not like him. This was not like his enemy, the man who presented challenges at every turn. The two of them were a pair to match each other, always trying to con the other’s team out of the win. RED seemed to win regardless of what they did, but Spy preferred their usual mental sparring.

He could only feel his respect waning as he came to realize what had become of the BLU. He fumbled, he missed bullets coming his way, he missed stabs, and even let himself get caught by the RED Engineer more times than RED Spy could possibly call coincidence. The man was merely a joke compared to who he was last year. At least even losing then he was proud and vigilant. Now he seemed like a buffoon in a suit, unable to keep up with what was going on around him as he moped.

He was worst when the BLU Soldier was around. The man would pay him no attention, but the Spy would turn his full attention to the rocket jumping fool. It was hardly mistakable and as RED Spy watched him throw himself at stickies meant to harm the BLU Soldier, he could not help but feel the pain.

It was painfully embarrassing to watch. What gentleman or Spy would ever be caught in that state? It was also relatable in a sense. RED Spy remembered having love, a love so fierce that bullets to the chest meant nothing by comparison. If that was what the BLU was feeling, then he could understand how he had become such an imbecile.

However, they were Spies, professionals of their trade, and neither should ever let themselves befall such stupidity. RED Spy never did, that was why he never brought the technology to the woman he loved. Twenty-four years of regret would not beat the professionalism out of him.

“We need the professional back,” RED Spy thought aloud, as he put out a cigarette with his heel.

 

*********************************************************************

 

BLU Spy was about to put his knife away when he glimpsed Andrew out of the corner of his eye. The man was stomping around angrily. He did so every day now. It was hardly the man he fell in love with.

So stupid, he thought. He was so stupid to still be fawning over this man, a creature who was hardly himself anymore. He felt angry about it.

He turned his attention away from the Soldier and finished putting his things away. He would not be bothered or distraught by the man. He had to keep his focus. He was a professional after all. But who was he kidding? He spent more time studying Andrew than he did focusing on his job. He spent so much time worrying and wondering if things could be patched up between them, after nothing having been wrong with them in the first place, that he ended up caught so many times.

The team was tired of losing to RED. But overall, Spy was mostly tired of being terrible at his job. He needed to focus on being better on that, first and foremost. After all, he was a Spy before anything else.

When he reached his smoking room, he found a piece of paper with writing on the door. He was quickly befuddled by it, staring at letters written out of order. His mind pieced it together much more quickly than most would have, reading the French words “Meet me by the camper” much faster than a normal man should be able to. He gave himself a mental pat on the back before taking the anagram off of the door. He wanted to go to his room first, before finding out what the RED Spy would do with the BLU Sniper.

Then it hit him. He was halfway through the door when worry spiked. Sniper was his friend and his colleague first and foremost. No matter what, he would have some form of feelings for him, and so when he realized that this could pose an actual threat, he darted from the room, hurrying through the building. He was not sure what he would find, but he wanted to get there before the RED could do anything to his friend.

“Oh hey Spook,” he was greeted by the lanky Australian. The man was lounging on one of the two seats he set outside the camper, his booted feet stretched out in front of him as he roasted a sausage over an open flame.

Spy looked around, searching for any signs of disturbances. He was not willing to let his guard down, even for Sniper. He had to keep his guard up _for_ Sniper. That was his priority at the moment.

“You need something?” Sniper asked, with a confused look on his face, “You look a bit flustered, mate.”

Spy opened his mouth and closed it. Normally he would have been fighting to find a decent answer to that, but right now he had to assure the Sniper’s safety. He darted around the camper, searching for signs of a Spy. He stretched out his arm, so that if he was cloaked he would get bumped.

“You uh…looking for something, Spy?” Sniper called from the other side of the van.

Spy gave a glance under the belly of the truck. He had to be sure there were no explosives. Sniper would not forgive him if he knowingly overlooked something that endangered his beloved vehicle and home.

It was back under the rear end bumper that Spy found the note. It was a folded piece of paper that felt like it had been folded a dozen times. He quickly slipped it into his pocket and rounded the truck to face the Sniper. The man looked utterly confused as to what the Spy was doing.

“Forgive me, I have to go,” he hurried off, while his friend called after him for explanation.

If the RED Spy was not after the Sniper, then he was after a goose chase. That at least meant the Sniper was in no real harm. That was a good sign. Though this could mean a long waste of time for the BLU Spy.

He made his way to a copse of trees where he knew he was alone. He unfolded the paper to find drawings, a crude making of a map of the BLU base with the surrounding trees and other foundations. There were small notes, all in French, as if meant to help somebody to navigate the area. The most notable ones, Spy thought, were the ones that marked the cameras and where they were looking.

Spy had thought about tracking where cameras were and what they could see. It did not bother him at all, they had grown used to cameras at any base they were at. He just took to noting where the important ones were, so that he could sneak around certain areas. It helped that the majority of the RED base was laid out the same as the BLU base, meaning studying the layout of his home base aided him in finding his way to the intel in RED.

But why would the RED Spy send him this? Why an anagram? And why would it be posted under the back of the Sniper’s camper.

 

Spy spent days pondering this. He waited a while before seeking out some of the cameras. He searched them, being certain that they had not been cut. Perhaps he was trying to trick him, or clue him in. Maybe he was aware that the BLU was losing his touch and was being helpful to show him what he was planning.

This might just be it! This could be what the RED was planning. BLU checked each and every camera, searching more and more of them every day. Soon he was outside, checking around the trees, in search of something to tell him what the RED was playing at. This had to end, he had to be back in Andrew’s arms.

 

June 2001

It was late in the month when the BLU Spy finally stumbled across something new. The farther out he went from the base, out into the area that Sniper normally trekked, the weaker the technology he found. Probably anybody could hack these cameras, bulky blue things with large attachments. What was worse was that the whole thing was not tucked away anywhere to protect the wiring or the programming, the cameras’ boxes were right out in the open, unlocked, waiting for anybody to open them.

He opened the first box to find a piece of paper with adhesive holding it to the screen. He plucked it off the monitor and read it, “The BLU Sniper knows.”

He stood there with the paper in hand, puzzled by the statement. It seemed quite blatant and presumptuous. Who could assume he had any idea what the RED Spy meant? What did the Sniper know about? Was he supposed to ask him? Was the Sniper in on what had happened?

His face started to turn red and he put a hand over his mouth. What if he had been wrong all along? What if the Sniper knew about their relationship? And if he knew about that, what if he knew that Spy had such a liking to them? The embarrassment shifted his focus as his heart started to race in panic.

He closed the box and proceeded back to the base. He could not handle this, not now. He would talk to the Sniper later, when he had his thoughts put back together.

 

The next day, he went out again to the same box. He found it empty. So he proceeded to the next one he found. There he found a new message, this one in French, “You and the Soldier are always watched.”

His breath caught as he read it. Surely the RED Spy did not mean that he himself was watching them. That was both creepy and vile. His rage rose to his throat as he stormed off with the note in hand. He would have no more of this gameplay. He would confront the RED head on.

Of course, he had to get through the other REDs first. When he got into the RED base, his cloak dropped a moment earlier than he thought it would. The Soldier called out his presence, just before a rocket hit him. That was an embarrassing death.

He hurried from the respawn off to the RED base again, taking the outskirts again. They were off duty so they were not supposed to be in the battlefield anyways. When he reached the base, he paused outside to let his invis watch recharge. He had to be completely able to pass each man until he could get to safety.

He found that this was impossible to do, when he ran chest first into the doctor who was stepping around the corner. The two collided, both men stunned as the Spy’s cloak shimmered. The doctor shifted his glasses then called out to his boyfriend.

The RED Heavy came charging out, chasing after the shimmering blue Spy. To Spy’s dismay, he had gotten himself trapped into a corner and the Heavy started beating him to a pulp. No doubt the man was furiously protective of his lover.

This time the BLU walked out through the forest with his dead ringer. He would not try to hide himself, as he was just here to talk. He came to the entrance, just within view of the Scout and the Demoman. They both looked at him as if he were some form of apparition.

“This is the off hours, lad!” the Demoman called out, “If you’re lookin’ for trouble, you found it!”

“I don’t want any trouble,” Spy waved off the comment dismissively.

“Then speak your business!” the RED Demo spat. Next to him, the Scout was getting very anxious, trying to decide whether to dart off or not.

“I wish to speak with your Spy,” he said, with a gentle calm.

“What?” the Demo barked a laugh, “Are you two buddies now?”

“No,” he spoke firmly, “I require a moment of his time, nothing more.”

“What would a BLU like you want with our Spy?” the RED Scout spat.

“That is classified,” Spy replied, keeping his eyes on the Demoman.

The Demo glanced over at the younger man, then jerked his head, “Aye. Go get the man. He can deal with this.”

The Scout hesitated before running off. The Demoman turned his eye back to the BLU Spy. The two were stuck in a stare down for the longest time it seemed. That was, until the RED Soldier came stomping by with a leg of something in his hand.

“What’s going on?” he asked the Demo, before his head swung towards the BLU. He flinched surprise, his helmet popping up to reveal his bushy eyebrows and receding hairline. “A Spy!” he barked.

“Aye, and he’s waiting for his chance to talk,” the Demo said patiently.

“He is a BLU! Do not be a traitor!” the Soldier shook the leg of meat at the Demo with a tone of warning.

“I’m not a traitor!” the Demo declared, with a touch of frustration.

“What is this?” the RED Spy’s voice came from up the hall. It was difficult to see, as the halls were dim compared to the bright light outside. “I see we have a Spy in our midst,” the RED Spy noted.

“Aye, wants to talk to you,” the Demo replied.

The RED Spy hesitated, looking the BLU up and down. It made his blood boil, waiting there, both hands behind his back, hiding the dead ringer he had. He would not let them know he was not wearing the invis watch, just so they could be surprised if they ‘killed’ him.

“Very well,” the RED Spy dug into his disguise case for a smoke, “But not here.” He proceeded out of the building, leading the way through the trees.

The BLU followed, wondering where they would go for privacy. Perhaps it would be private enough to backstab him, just to give him a little taste of the BLU’s frustration. He would not feel real victory though, he knew that. A bit of money out of his next pay, a lack of sustenance for his anger. The outrage over what he had done to the relationship BLU had with the Soldier was simmering just beneath the surface.

The RED stopped when they were just out of sight of the RED base. They were hidden by trees, but without the trees, they could have still seen the doorway. The RED was preoccupied though, pressing some buttons in a camera box on a tree.

He finally turned to the BLU Spy and removed his cigarette from his mouth, “What is this about?”

The BLU Spy relaxed, slipping the dead ringer into a pocket as he pulled out the papers he took off of the camera boxes. He threw it at him, assuming he would know what they were. He wrote them after all.

“I am here about these stupid notes,” he growled irritably, “What game are you playing?”

“No game,” the RED shrugged nonchalantly, “I am simply lying out the clues to lead you to the truth.”

“Why don’t you come out and say it?” the BLU growled.

“Don’t be silly,” the RED rubbed the side of his forehead with two fingers, carefully holding the smoldering end of his cigarette away from himself, “It’s not to be told to anyone.”

“Then why are you trying to tell it to me?” the BLU demanded.

“Because it is important,” the RED replied. His voice sounded authentic, with a touch of worry.

“You think I can be fooled so easily?” the BLU asked, with warning on his voice.

“No,” the RED shifted from side to side uneasily.

“Then what?” the BLU growled.

“You should confront the Sniper about this,” the RED waved it off.

“What?” the BLU was a bit confused.

“He’s closer to home for you,” the RED explained with a shrug, “A BLU revealing it to a BLU makes more sense in my opinion. But, perhaps you can just go and see it for yourself.”

“Go see it?” the BLU hesitated, “Where?”

“In the cities of course,” the RED Spy replied, with a malicious chuckle, “Go and ask the Sniper. Ask him to take you to the city.”

“I can drive myself,” the BLU growled.

“Still, he already knows the layout of the city, doesn’t he?” the RED asked, “Ask him to take you farther and farther. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I don’t see what you mean,” the BLU shook his head.

The RED shook his head with a sigh. He proceeded back towards his base, not bothering to turn the camera back on. “You’ll see it when you get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. ~~not sorry~~  
>  This isn't even the hard part guys. I am sorry but this story is going to be even longer than i had thought! I am thinking maybe fifty chapters. I have an even bigger twist coming down the road.  
> Also, rest assured, Soldier hasn't fallen out of love. BLU Spy is going to be okay. RED Spy is no more a dick than BLU Spy is. They are equally dicks, basically. There is just a bias for readers who like BLU's side of the story (which I'm telling) ;) :P


	24. Everything Goes Back to Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RED Spy is meddling. Spy is fed up with this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too impatient to write each chapter with pace. So yes, I'm posting several chapters in a day. Don't judge me.

June 2001

Spy did not know why he hesitated. He waited for a month before he actually went to the Sniper. The man looked the same as the last time he saw him at the camper. He was lounging back in a chair, with his arms behind his head, his hat slouched forward, and something edible over an open fire. This time it looked like something like marshmallows. But it had melted to a point that he could not be sure.

“Whacha doing out here, Spy?” he asked, reaching up to pull down on the back of his hat.

Spy hesitated, stopping at least eight feet away from him. He did not feel that welcome at Sniper’s camper. The man liked his privacy, though he had not been hostile about it, having grown accustomed to Spy’s company. It was more about how uncertain he was that the Sniper would actually know what he was talking about, without asking too many questions that the Spy was not willing to answer.

“I need to ask you something,” he spoke calmly and carefully.

Sniper sat up, putting his arms down. He gave Spy a cautious look, as he sat up off the back of his chair. He swung his legs off the chair, putting the bottoms of his boots onto the ground.

“What do you need, mate?” he asked.

“I need you to tell me what’s in the city,” Spy said sternly.

Sniper’s eyes widened, his nostrils flared and something between fury and fear hit him. His face started to grow red and he looked like he might start to freak out in a panic. Spy had not seen Sniper quite like this in a long time. He might have enjoyed it if it were in some other situation, but this was important.

“Sniper, I need you to tell me what is in the city,” Spy repeated, still stern in his tone, “Do you understand what I am meaning?”

“I know what you mean, mate,” the Sniper hesitated, clearing his throat, “But, I can’t.”

“You cannot? Or you will not?” Spy inquired, without missing a beat.

“I will not,” Sniper admitted, “Because I cannot.” He pressed with his voice a little harder.

“Tell me,” Spy insisted, “Tell me now.”

“I can’t!” Sniper raised his voice a little louder.

“What is out there that I do not know about, Sniper? What are you and the RED Spy hiding from me?” he demanded, growing angry with his Sniper.

The Sniper flared up in anger at that. That touched a nerve somewhere. Based on the timing of his reaction, Spy would have guessed that it had to do with the RED Spy.

“I need to know,” Spy softened his voice.

“I cannot tell you,” Sniper shook his head, rising to his feet, “And you shouldn’t be asking.”

“I have to ask!” Spy insisted, watching the taller man sway.

He was like a beast in his own right. He was not a bear, not like the Heavy, but he was dangerous. Maybe like a wolf or a coyote. Whatever the case, Spy was wary of the dangerous look he had about him.

He lowered his voice to a dangerous growl, “Listen mate.” He started walking towards Spy, taking slow cautious steps. He was in no hurry to cover the ground between them anyways. “You don’t want to nor need to know what is out there. You do not want to know about all of what’s going on. What’s going down is something they don’t want you to know about. So long as you don’t know, you’re safe.”

“I disagree with that logic,” Spy held himself high, trying to puff his chest up and make himself look bigger. He did not feel bigger though, he felt as small as a puppy the nearer the Sniper drew.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he kept on with that low gravelly tone, “You’re aiming down a path that’s going to get you killed, and respawn won’t be there to save you. At least, do me a favor and keep me and Melisa out of this.” He was talking through his teeth by this point, trying not to move so much of his face as he growled.

“Don’t growl at me,” Spy said, holding himself in a posh posture, “I don’t understand your English when you growl.”

The Australian rolled his eyes, his voice raising back to a tone of disbelief, “Will you come off it, mate? You have to take my advice. Just go home. Ignore all that stupid RED told ya. He’s a snake anyways. You know he’s trying to fool ya.”

“But there _is_ something. Isn’t there?” Spy pressed.

The Sniper shied away a bit. He was never the type to actually push a conversational debate. Nor was he the type of man to rely on for secrets and lies. He had tell-tales all over his face and in his hands. Sniper was easy to read, it made it so surprising that he would spend so much time around a Spy, a man who could both read and manipulate him better than Sniper himself could read into a normal conversation.

“Isn’t there?” Spy pressed harder.

“I can’t tell you, mate,” the Sniper pressed harder.

“I can’t believe you, Glenn,” the Spy tried to press just a little deeper.

“Hey!” the Sniper barked, raising a finger to the Spy’s nose, “You leave me out of this! Alright? If you wanna know so bad, go ask your pal at RED!”

Sniper turned away, returning to his reclining chair. He plopped down on it, to find that his marshmallow had melted and burned away. He looked at it, as if dumbfounded that he had lost the dessert.

“You’re just going to do that then?” Spy demanded.

“Yup,” Sniper picked up a beer in one hand. After a second thought, he picked up a second beer and handed it to Spy. “Have a drink with me.”

“I’m having second thoughts,” Spy growled, turning and storming off to the base.

He wanted to be alone for silent thinking. He needed to figure out what was going on between the Sniper and the RED Spy. What would he need to keep secret from the team’s Spy though?

He would have to puzzle that out for himself in the quiet of his room. There, he smoked through three packs, and halfway through a fourth he finally called it a night. He needed to get some sleep if he was to get anything done.

 

July 1, 2001

He had not expected to see Scout at his door. The boy had not talked to him in a while. Like Soldier, Spy had kept his distance. Not that he had any reason to socialize with the Scout of all mercenaries in the first place. But, given he did not have many people to socialize with in that regards, he let the youth in.

“To what do I have the honor of a visit?” he said sarcastically. The tone was covering his gratitude that anybody cared he existed anymore.

“I was uh…I was wondering something,” Scout explained.

“Well then? Out with it,” Spy pressed, lighting a new cigarette.

“I’ll just be straight with you, um…” Scout hesitated again.

“Come on, Scout,” Spy pressed, “I do not have all day.”

“It’s about Soldier,” Scout finally spat, “It’s about him and his…attitude…lately. He’s been acting really weird the past six months. I don’t get it.”

“Six months exactly?” the Spy pressed, wondering if the youth had kept such close watch on Andrew.

“Well...basically that much time,” Scout shrugged, “You know what I mean though. Right? He’s been acting weird. I mean, people change. But a nice guy for over thirty years turning into a mean old man? It’s gotta be different!”

“Well then,” Spy hung off of that last syllable.

Well then, he thought. He had no idea what else to say. His tongue hung on his own words, clouded of thoughts that would otherwise help him to deal with his Soldier. Well then, so what? What could he do? There was nothing he could do without trouble or an angry Soldier. The man was so hostile towards him that he dared not turn his head in the Soldier’s direction.

“You guys were...friends for a while. I thought maybe you could help?” Scout asked, hesitantly, “If you’re not busy or anything.”

Spy took a breath, hesitating for thought. He had a lot to ponder at the moment. There was so much build up of nothing but bitterness over the past six months. Loneliness just added to it. Distance and a cold shoulder made it harder to deal with.

“I’m not sure I can help you,” Spy admitted defeat without much fight. In fact, he felt rather deflated over it.

“Oh come on! Spy! There’s gotta be something!” Scout pleaded.

“I’m not sure I can help,” Spy insisted, with a defeated tone.

“I just wanna try and get the old Soldier back, you know? I mean, fourth of July is coming up. That always gets him excited and shit. Maybe, I dunno, Demo could do one of his special barbeque shows? That seems like it would cheer him up,” Scout offered.

The boy was brilliant. He was almost on the marker, but just a bit off. Spy’s mind raced as he thought of the previous years’ fourth of July. Every year, the man was his loudest and most bombastic on the American Independence Day. It was a special day to him and he loved to celebrate it like it was Smissmas. It was worth a shot.

“I think you’re on the right track,” Spy said, a smile growing on his face.

“I am?” Scout gave him a surprised look.

“Yes, but we need to think bigger,” Spy’s smile grew a bit more.

“Bigger? Like what bigger?” Scout scrunched his brow with worry on his face.

“Think like the Soldier,” Spy explained, “Think how he would think. Do what he would do for a fourth of July.”

“You mean like...er...red white and blue outfits and shit? Fireworks? All that stuff?” Scout offered.

“Everything and anything one would do for an American Independence Day celebration, let’s do that,” Spy pressed.

Scout’s face lit up, “Yea! Haha! Alright! Let’s do this! So...uh...wait- you-um…”

“Scout, you go get the others and set up the day,” Spy instructed, “Plan for a barbeque. As you said, he likes that. Then we need the Demo to work on some explosives for us. Loud and flashy is best.”

“Loud and flashy fireworks from Demo,” Scout hesitated, “I’ll get Engie on the barbeque.”

“Good,” Spy nodded, “The Sniper and I can...never mind, I’ll take the doctor instead. I’ll arrange the booze and other drinks.”

“Right,” Scout paused, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about fourth of July things, “What about decorations? He likes to decorate the place.”

“That’s something the Pyro can do,” Spy nodded in agreement.

“What if nobody wants to help us?” Scout suddenly asked.

“We won’t know until we try, oui?” Spy shrugged.

Scout nodded with a big smile on his face. Somehow this uplifted them both. Scout was looking forward to a big smile on the Soldier’s face. Spy was looking forward to seeing anything but a snarl on Andrew’s face.

 

July 2, 2001

“No,” was the resounding answer from each and every mercenary. Each one gave their own rendition of an excuse, half of them arguing that it was an unsafe and stupid idea, the other half arguing that they were not interested in such a trivial matter.

It was frustrating to see his teammates like this. Aside from Scout, none of them seemed to care. Demo was an exception, seeming like he cared enough to help them make fireworks, but not enough to want to participate. As much as he liked explosions, he did not want to be a part of another forest fire.

 

July 4, 2001

Spy and Scout decided they would decorate and deal with everything else themselves. They put out some drinks, lit up the barbeque. It was while Spy was placing the meat over the flames that he heard the Scout surprise the Soldier.

“Happy fourth soldier!” he heard the Scout say, cheerfully but awkwardly.

“Thanks kid,” the tone seemed dishonest coming from Andrew’s tongue. Spy frowned, wanting to walk over to talk with them.

“I got a bunch of rockets and stuff!” the youth said cheerfully, “Wanna go blow stuff up?”

“We’ll just be a bother,” Andrew waved off the idea, “It’ll result in catastrophe, like last year.”

Spy inhaled sharply. The entire team had been rather mean to him last year after the forest fire. It was during some of their first months here at this base. None of them had wanted to deal with such a travesty. It was amazing that so much of the forest was still left untouched from the flames. Still, he wished he could go back and stop them from scorning him so badly.

Scout hesitated for a while, before he finally said, “You used to be fun.”

That must have hit Andrew like a ton of bricks. He looked so hurt by that, as he pulled down his cap and stomped off. Spy felt his heart hit the floor, anchoring him in place, though his mind wanted him to run after him. His mind told him to run, to chase after him, to tell him to come back, but he could not.

 

July 5, 2001

Spy could not take this anymore. He waited until after work. He waited through the unloading of weaponry and suits of armor. He waited as everybody went on with their day. He waited.

It was half an hour after leaving the respawn room when BLU Spy headed up to Andrew’s room. He made no long routes this time, taking his invis watch and a shortcut. He hurried right up to the man’s door, hoping he would be able to get in.

He found the man standing before his door, his forehead pressed against the wood. He stared at it blankly, unstirring from his position. Spy did not know what to do. He did not know why Andrew was just standing there like that. It was almost as if the Soldier’s mind had drawn a blank.

“What am I doing?” Andrew asked himself. He was forceful when he moved, taking the door knob and opening his room.

The way he opened doors gave spy plenty of room. He was not cautious with the room, expecting nobody behind him. So Spy sucked in his body and snuck past him as quickly as possible, before the door swung shut. Andrew leaned back against the door tiredly, resting the weight against the wood, which groaned.

The invis watch lost its time and the cloak dropped. Spy glanced at it with a scornful glare, before looking at the surprised Andrew. His helmet slid back down over his eyes as he gaped with an open mouth.

“Before you kill me, let me explain,” the Spy pleaded.

He did not have a time before he was attacked. He did not even have the breath to say anything. He could not react, he could not even use his arms, as they became useless beneath the arms around him.

The embrace was tight, constricting him like a snake would a mouse. Andrew held him so tightly, he could not see the man’s face, even as the helmet shoved off and rolled away. All he could see was the top of his blond hair, which had grown out a decent length in the past months.

Spy felt himself shake and shudder as all of his tension left his body. He felt like everything was right with the world. Everything was okay again. Andrew did not actually hate him. It was all just a stone cold act.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew did not know how the Spy got in, but he did not care. The man was a unique sneak and had his ways around the base. He probably was waiting there for him, just biding his time until Soldier walked in. How stupid of him to have stood there in self-pity, making his love wait.

All of the bitterness melted away. All of the anger and frustration at being alone was gone the instant he saw Spy. And as he hugged him, all of his pretenses of shutting off this whole thing were gone. His heart was racing and rising up his throat, as it started all over again.

Spy started to move him, pushing him towards the bed. That was when he realized that he was shaking. Spy probably thought that he was going to fall, that he was going to drop to his knees or keel over like a woman. He was not so feint, but he would obey the man’s unspoken commands.

When he sat down on the edge of the bed, he pulled Spy down with him. At first it was awkward, but he managed to guide the man’s legs so that he was straddling Andrew’s lap. He held onto him, holding him close so he could bury his face against his neck, breathing in the smell embedded into his balaclava.

He felt the soft breathing turn into wet sobs. It seemed so unlike Spy that he had to lift his head to look. Wet eyes were closed, hiding the hazel irises but not the tears that streaked down his cheeks.

Andrew cupped his face and wiped the tears with his thumbs, as gently and sweetly as he could manage. When Spy opened his watery eyes, he smiled at Andrew and put his hands over the ones on his face. Andrew smiled back, his heart pounding out the joy he was finally feeling.

Spy said nothing as he sat there, resting with both of Andrew’s hands on his cheeks. Once in a while he would close his eyes, which caused another tear to fall down his cheeks. When he opened them again, he would gaze back into Andrew’s eyes.

Andrew never looked away. He never wanted to look away again. He wanted to hold the man’s gaze forever and ever. He wanted to just look him in the eyes and tell him a hundred times over that he loved him and he wanted him to be happy.

When he finally remembered his voice, Andrew spoke softly, “Don’t cry.”

Spy chuckled, “I do look the fool, don’t I?”

“You don’t need to,” Andrew insisted, drying the man’s cheeks again. His hands were becoming wet with salty tears, but he did not care.

Spy took a deep shuddering breath. He seemed so shaken that he needed more than just one breath. The man needed a fucking cigarette. His hands went shakily to his disguise kit to pull one out.

He paused with the cigarette halfway to his mouth, “Ah…do you mind?” He motioned around the room.

“I’ll open a window,” Andrew started to shift.

“Don’t,” Spy immediately put the cigarette away, “I don’t want anyone to know I am here.”

“Okay then,” Andrew nodded slowly. His hands moved down from Spy’s face to his upper waist. He was not shaken enough to not be nervous about placing his hands a little too low on Spy.

Spy leaned forward and draped his weight over Andrew. He let him lay there, his nose buried into his neck, and his cheek pressed against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him to hold him close, while he breathed against the skin on his neck. What a wonderful feeling to have his Spy back in his life.

“I love you, Jacques,” he whispered softly, “And I have missed you.”

“I have missed you so,” Spy spoke so slowly and softly that Andrew almost missed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::Insert Soldier/Spy erotica here::  
> lol I'm not done. Chill your bones.


	25. Of Men Who Love Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier and Spy enjoy the morning after their first night together.  
> Sniper wants them to stop 'fighting.' Demo's kinda in the know.  
> Pauling is trying to fix everything, but Gray wants to "scramble the teams."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be open minded about what Gray means by "scramble the teams."

The next morning the blankets were off, but the bed was too warm for coverage anyways. The window had to be opened, for the sake of getting some cooler air in the room. That happened while it was too dark for somebody to see, so it had not mattered as much. Spy would probably ask him to close the window soon, to hide his ultimate shame.

Andrew could not feel any shame about it one way or another. He laid in the cool air, his skin trying to breathe amidst sweat and the heat of another body. That body, all dressed down to nothing but a balaclava, was laying half on top of him, an arm draped over his chest and mouth hanging open against his shoulder.

He would not move though. He wanted to laugh at how funny Spy’s face looked when he was sleeping, with his mouth hanging open. It was different from the last time he watched him sleep, where he had been sleeping softly and sweetly. Now he was just exhausted from the night’s excursion, and might well have a hard time getting out of bed from how exhausted he looked.

The mouth suddenly closed as he took a sharp intake of breath. Spy opened his eyes slowly, looking up at Andrew. He tried to blink the sleepiness from his eyes, giving Andrew a drowsy smile. Andrew wanted to kiss that mouth.

“You’re an early riser as always,” Spy chuckled softly.

Andrew glanced at the clock, “Too damn early. Even for me.” He turned his attention back to Spy. “I just had to wake up and be sure this wasn’t a dream.”

“This is not a dream,” Spy chuckled at him, “Or a trick, I assure you.”

“I believe you,” the Soldier settled back.

He let his hand meander down to stroke the Spy’s back. He was very soft, his skin like velvet. He was sure that even a baby could not be so soft as Spy, and wondered just what he did to stay like that. He was like a cat he was so soft.

“Hmmm…” Spy hummed, shifting his chin against Andrew’s shoulder.

“I didn’t think it would ever come to this,” Soldier muttered.

“Sorry?” Spy raised his head, giving Soldier a questioning look.

“I became…erm…I didn’t…believe we would ever be together again,” Soldier shied away, turning his eyes towards the window blinds.

The hand draped across him meandered up to the skin on his chest. It was chilling to feel the deft fingers tickling him. He shuddered, glancing down at the gloveless hand.

“You were…mad because you thought we wouldn’t get back together?” Spy asked, with a sad tone in his voice.

Andrew felt embarrassed to admit it, but he nodded anyways. He would not lie to him.

“I thought we had agreed,” Spy pleaded with him.

There was a long silence as Andrew kicked himself mentally. Of course Spy was just being a patient man. He should have known that it was all Spy waiting out the RED Spy’s devious plans. He had been foolish to let go so soon.

“It cannot be helped,” Spy let go of the previous tone, settling for a tone more like his professionalism.

Andrew took a deep breath and ran his hand up to Spy’s upper back, pulling tight on him. “I’m relieved that we are…together.”

Spy nuzzled his shoulder, “Of course, Andrew. We’re in this together, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Andrew nodded in agreement.

 

*********************************************************************

 

After giving the Soldier clear instructions for the next few weeks, Spy snuck out of his room and headed down to the respawn room. There was no sneaking back into his room, lest the cameras picked up on the moving doors. They would know that he not only did not go to bed the night before, but that he went back to his room. He could afford going to work in the suit he was in, just to hide what was going on.

When the day started, nobody even noticed. He just went about work as usual. He felt more relaxed than usual though. It helped that he could look at Andrew and know his flinching away would not be with snarling.

When the day ended though, he was surprised to run into Sniper at his locker. The man did not often look for a chance to talk to him. Why did he have to pick this time, right now, when Spy was about to slip his invis watch into Andrew’s locker. He had been too long without all of the lavishing attention Andrew had given him months ago, he wanted to go back to that and more, they just had to do it in secrecy.

“Can I talk to you?” Sniper asked.

Spy hesitated, shifting his feet, “What’s this about?”

“You and the Soldier,” Sniper stepped towards him.

Spy felt a bit of heat in his face as panic grew. Did Sniper actually know? Had he been caught? Was their plan a poor one?

“You two need to stop fighting,” Sniper stated.

Spy let out a small breath of relief. He felt a bit ashamed of himself, growing panicked over what turned out to be nothing. Still, he felt overall relieved that he was not in trouble over last night. Last night was too good, and thinking about it renewed the heat in his body.

“We’ve never _been_ fighting,” Spy argued, sternly. He kept all of his professionalism at the forefront of his mind.

“You won’t go talk to him!” Sniper exclaimed, “And he shoots you nasty glares. I thought you two were going to be fine – better off without each other – but it’s like you’re at war because you aren’t friends!”

“I assure you, that’s contrary to the reality of things,” Spy put an assuring hand on his arm.

“You two are ending this nonsense, once and for all!” Sniper said, with stern frustration.

Oh no, Spy thought, as Sniper took a hold of his arm. He turned Spy around as Andrew entered the respawn. They were going to be involved in some weird confrontation, and he was not sure how that was going to go. Sniper of all people creating a scene and confronting people? That was something one did not get to see every lifetime.

“You!” Sniper called out to the Soldier.

Andrew pointed to himself questioningly. He looked between Spy and Sniper quizzically, unable to make sense of what was going on. He did not have time to, as Sniper grabbed his arm with a free hand. They trumped out of the respawn, out of the base towards the forests.

Spy glanced around at the cameras. Sniper knew where he was going though. He was taking them directly to where they would not be seen. Within a few minutes’ of pacing, they stopped and he forced Spy and Soldier to face each other.

Spy glanced sideways to see that the Demoman had followed them, just to be sure this was not going to be violent. He gave the Sniper a questioning look, but he waved it off. Nobody spoke, there was just the silence of the forest, as the four men stood there awkwardly.

“Sniper, what is this?” Spy demanded.

Sniper turned to Soldier, “Look mate, whatever you had months ago, you should have that again. I don’t know what happened between you two, but you were good mates. You should be good mates. Shouldn’t you be? I’m not one to dictate what a man does. But what you shouldn’t be doing is snarling at Spy here.”

Spy gave Sniper a questioning look, only to shift it to Andrew. Even beneath his helmet the poor man looked baffled. His cheeks were red and he looked like he might explode. Being put on the spot could not be doing well for his mind.

“Sniper,” Spy put a hand on the taller man’s shoulder.

“I’m just trying to get through to him,” Sniper looked over at Spy, with what looked like a sad plea on his face. That was surprising for Spy.

On the sideline, Demo was waiting and watching in silence. His eye darted between each man. His face looked fairly reddened, but he did not disturb the peace of the trees around them.

“I ain’t asking ya, I’m tellin’ ya. And you don’t have to say sorry or nothing. Just make up,” Sniper insisted.

Andrew shifted, staring down at his toes. He was so flabbergasted and confused that he might never try to speak. Spy had to do something to loosen the burden off of the other man.

“Sniper, I don’t think you understand,” Spy tried to pull his attention away from the Soldier.

“Look lad,” the Demo finally stepped into the situation, “You can’t just go about and try to remake what’s been broken. Sometimes things don’t work out. And you can’t force ‘em. They ain’t allowed.”

Spy held his breath, looking over at Andrew. How did the Demo know? How could he possibly figure everything out like this? He could not possibly have all of the pieces figured out. Spy could not even get everything figured out and in place.

“It ain’t about that,” Sniper insisted.

“You can’t push these things,” Demo tried to reason with the Sniper.

Spy eyed each man thoughtfully. He had to wriggle out of this situation without Sniper being the wiser. It was bad enough that the team drunk knew about him and Andrew. It would be the least social man next if it became anymore obvious.

“I’m willing to let bygones be bygones,” Spy offered his hand to Andrew.

Andrew looked at the hand, pushing back his helmet. He glanced up to meet Spy’s eyes before he took the hand. They shook hands for a long awkward minute, trying not to look each other in the eye. How hard it was to gaze upon his face without wanting to kiss that adorably confused look off of his profile.

“Very good and dandy then, aye?” the Demo pushed onwards.

“Very good,” Sniper smiled, relieved and satisfied. Behind his yellow tinted aviators, he looked like he was joyful over the occasion.

“Alright then,” Spy cleared his throat, as the handshake finally broke.

“This has been a jolly good time,” Demo chuckled, “How about drinks?”

They ended up returning to the base for a round of drinks. Him and Andrew never made it back to his room, so they went their separate ways for sleep. It was probably for the best anyways. At the end of the week, they could spend better quality time together.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Miss Pauling smiled at the table of Mann Co producers. Each one of them was a descendant of either Redmond or Blutarch. None of those present were descended of Gray Mann.

Still, as frustrating as they were – blue suited brothers and sisters facing their red suited cousins gathered here to listen to what she had to say. She cleared her throat and pointed to the findings from the studies. They were not entirely conclusive yet, but she was sure of the results she was going to get.

She could barely get through her presentation though. Like their ancestors before them, the Mann family was daringly bold and refused to let anybody explain themselves thoroughly without cross examination. She grew tired and frustrated of their questioning, wishing she could just start shooting heads to quiet them down.

When it was all over, she looked over their faces, hoping one of them would agree. They all had frowns and scowls. Many of them were glaring across the table at their cousins. There was no way she was going to get half of them to agree.

“Well?” she pressed.

An uproar rose as they all began arguing. She pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing she could do something about them. All she wanted to do now was throw chairs at the table. She managed to keep her calm though.

“Look, everybody,” she tried to bring some order back to the chaos, “We need a decision made on this issue.”

“I say we scramble the teams,” one woman exclaimed.

“Just get rid of the weird ones!” a man from across the table argued.

“Just move them around,” another man put in.

Suddenly, the door opened. Pauling raised her head, hopeful that this would be a turn for the better. Something good would come of this. Until she saw the elderly face of Gray Mann.

“Sorry to be late to the party,” Gray Mann adjusted his tie, with a smug smirk on his face.

Pauling frowned, “Please…join us, Mr. Mann.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Gray smirked at her, before taking the empty seat at the head of the table. If only Eldrich Mann had actually shown up to this meeting, so that very seat would not be available to him.

“What is your opinion, Gray?” all of the Mann family turned to the head of the table, looking to the smartest man in their family.

He gave a ludicrous smile to Miss Pauling, “Oh, but I have missed the lovely presentation. I cannot possibly create an opinion based on my own biases.”

“It’s not important,” one of the others said, dismissively of Miss Pauling’s presentation.

“We are looking at a prospective change in the modern perception of sexuality,” Miss Pauling explained.

“Oh? Do tell how this applies,” Gray used a charming tone of voice.

Pauling took a calming breath, putting on a formal pose, “From the current projections of the mainstream opinions, shows representing persons of differing identities and sexualities are going to become more popular. We already fit the identities demographic, given our mercenaries are from all over the world. What we are looking at is the possibility to fit in the men who are…shall we say, _playing for the same team_.”

“Go on,” Gray pressed, with a small nod.

“If we fit showings for violence apart from the showings for drama, we are suited to meet our quota for viewership, and then surpass it,” she explained, “We’ll go above and beyond what we had before.”

“Good,” Gray smiled.

“Good?” she looked at him with surprise.

The others were mostly quiet, though some of them muttered things to their siblings. A low hum of whispering rose as the Mann family started debating the fate of the mercenaries. Pauling could only hold her breath.

“Then we need to weed out the mercenaries,” Gray finally staed.

“Huh?” Pauling flinched.

Everybody turned to him again, giving him his desired attention, “We’ll need to start sorting the mercenaries and scrambling them.”

“Scrambling them, sir?” Pauling looked at him with nervous hesitation.

“We need certain shows to show the drama, the others will show our usual _testosterone fueled_ violence,” he told her with a coy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay no, Gray's a villain through and through.  
> I love Pauling. I wish she were a playable character.  
> "Andrew and Spy 4ever" that needs carved into a tree or something


	26. New Contracts for the Mercenaries of Builders League United

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mercenaries are offered a raise, which is received with joy. Spy's class apparently has certain conditions for this new raise, but Spy is having none of that nonsense. Andrew is offered a contract that requires relocation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got sick, so this got put off for a while in favor of extra Zs.  
> Also, I am leaving in a week to start my new job. I'll be in a whole new timezone and I will be working, and I do not know how that will change my writing habits. I will continue writing these fics, know that, but there might be longer pauses in between chapters.

Time became nonsense. The only time that Andrew followed anymore was the work clock. He ate, got to work on time, clocked out, went to his room, then snuck off to Spy’s room. Any other sense of time was completely foreign to him.

He did his best with the sneaking, but every once in a while, he ran into something and hurt himself, lost track of the time left on the watch and got seen by a camera, or just plain bumped into some mercenary wandering the halls. They would shout questions at him about why he had a Spy’s watch, but he would ignore them and run off.

Scout was the only one who ran after him. Thankfully, the invis watch did eventually regain its charge and Scout was not very good at following sound, even if it was loud stomping. Andrew just made a long route around the base and came back to Spy’s room. He heard a gentle lecture from Spy about how he should _correctly_ sneak around, but that did not last long.

Spy was needy and wanted lots of attention. Walls broken down and all bounds off, they did everything and anything they could. He even started to learn some new things about himself.

Spy had debated they only meet on weekends in a hotel room in town. But that came very close to shady and the others would talk. It was better if Andrew just fumbled around looking silly. Nobody had caught him around Spy’s door yet. Not even the cameras.

Andrew preferred Spy’s room, and would have completely moved in if he could. It was private, a place that Spy felt comfortable, and there was plenty of space in the smoking room to just lounge about and do anything. Andrew was not even sure why the Spy got such a big space, though perhaps he had given up his to be part of the gym and recreational shooting areas.

When he was in Spy’s room, they were never bothered by anyone. They were never questioned by anyone. They could do whatever they want and not be questioned. They could say anything they wanted to each other, and even learn new things about each other.

One day, Andrew looked at Spy and wondered what his face looked like. The sturdy jawline hinted at a very masculine face. He had a curiously big nose for a man with such a lithe looking frame. And the bits of stubble he saw from time to time hinted at gray.

Was Spy’s hair gray? He listened to Spy’s humming, studying his chin. He was completely shaven, having taken to a routine of cleaning up between work and Andrew’s arrival. But what would Andrew ever see under that mask?

“Something on your mind?” Spy’s eyes flashed his way.

Andrew smiled, “Your stubble comes out gray.”

His eyes flickered away immediately. Embarrassment flashed across his face, enough to make Andrew giggle. What a silly look on such a serious man. He was embarrassed by a bit of gray hair on his face?

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Andrew stated, “Older men grow out gray. It’s natural.”

“Indeed,” Spy said, with obvious irritation on his tongue.

In most cases, Andrew would have let it go, shying away. But he took to this with a bold sense of curiosity. He clambered across the bed to get closer to Spy and lean on his shoulder with an elbow.

“You act like it’s a bad thing,” Andrew said, a smile still plastered to his face.

“I wouldn’t ask my hair to grow out gray,” Spy stated firmly. He still seemed irritated by the topic.

“Nobody asks to be imperfect,” Andrew shrugged, then gave Spy’s shoulder a shake, “But we wouldn’t have what we’ve got, would we?”

“What? What we have is imperfect?” Spy gave him a raised eyebrow.

In most situations, outside of this room, outside of the safety of saying and doing anything they wanted, Andrew would shy away. But this place was their sanctuary, so his boldness was renewed tenfold.

“Our relationship is perfect,” he stated, proudly, “And I love all its little imperfections!”

Spy sighed, “You’re perfect.” He leaned back on his hands, letting his head tilt so he could admire Andrew.

Andrew chuckled, “I’m not perfect.”

“But you are,” a smile glimmered in his eyes, “To me, you’re everything I need. Not everything I thought I wanted…but… What I need is you.”

“Well,” Andrew paused to think. He scratched his chin, trying to think of a better way to approach this situation.

“It’s cute when you care too much about something so small,” Spy stated.

Andrew thought of something to say but when his mouth opened he could not say it. He wanted to explain to Spy how he had not asked to be the way he was. How he got flashes of memories. How he got hallucinations and blackouts. He did not ask to be a forgetful idiot, he just sort of turned out that way. Though he was certain he was not completely that way when he came out of the womb.

Instead of telling him all of that, he decided to let it go. He let the topic slip away as he continued to enjoy Spy’s attention and affection.

 

*********************************************************************

 

It was a good day for BLU this time. In fact, it had been a pretty good week. After a month of shakily regaining their foothold in winning, they had gathered up the intel and won four times this week. It was a miracle for BLU, and now they were going to win the match for the fifth time.

That felt pretty damn good to Spy. He could smile when he gave out backstabs, knowing that somebody was watching from behind the cameras. He almost wanted to ask them if they were watching him win again. That was a good feeling in and of itself.

At the end of the work day, he went to his locker as usual, waiting for the others to be too preoccupied for them to notice him slipping his invis watch to Andrew’s locker. He was glancing around curiously when a new set of footsteps came into the respawn room. It was not from the battlefield though, it was from inside of the base.

“Hello boys!” Miss Pauling announced.

“Hello Miss Pauling,” Several of the mercenaries greeted her with cheerful smiles. She was a friendly face for after a battle won.

“Well done on the battlefield today!” she said with a bright smile. There was something condescending about the way she said that though, like she had some ulterior motive.

“We smashed those REDs in their puny faces!” the Soldier announced with a triumphant smack of his shovel to his helmet.

Spy suppressed a snicker. It was no wonder Andrew had so many problems. He took so much head trauma on a daily basis. Spy wondered if respawn really did undo those kinds of damages or not.

“You can go back to the Administrator and tell her that BLU is back on top!” Demoman said with a loud belly laugh.

“Calm down boys, I’m sure the Administrator’s aware,” the Engineer intervened, “Miss Pauling’s probably got things to do and people to see. Don’t you?” His question was answered by a small nod from the woman he was addressing. “Well then? What is it?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes glancing about the room. She seemed a bit nervous, like she was about to address the whole room. Spy watched as she tensed and relaxed, trying to prep herself for what she was about to say.

“Your late wins have been noted and the Administrator is prepared to raise your salaries,” she told them.

That was answered with cheering. Andrew and Demo started dancing around like idiots with the Scout as they celebrated this newfound triumph. Spy wondered how much sooner they would have gotten that raise if they had started winning sooner.

“Now, as you guys were. I’ll talk to you later,” she turned and walked out of respawn.

The others returned to their cheerful banter and excited drivel. Spy was waiting for them to be distracted enough to not see him slip the invis watch. But, several of them were too close to Soldier and his locker. He would have to wait until the man himself had gone so he could come back for it.

When the group finally left, Spy was mostly alone in the respawn room. Across the room, he could hear the Engineer cleaning his gear, generally minding his own business. He would be easy to sneak past, given that he did not pay much attention to Soldier or the Spy. He was only attentive to Spies who were sneaking up to stab him or sap his equipment. He was none too wise about what was going on with others’ things.

“Spy?” Pauling’s voice interrupted him in mid-planning.

“Yes?” he raised both eyebrows to her.

“May I speak with you in private for a minute?” she requested.

The Engineer looked their way and Miss Pauling motioned for him to leave. He put his hardhat on his head, tipped it and made his way out. When the two were finally alone, it became even quieter.

“Let’s step outside,” Pauling said, throwing the door to the base a suspicious glance.

Spy nodded and followed her outside. He kept both hands behind his back, but was wary. He was not privy to usual visits from Miss Pauling, so this was an unusual surprise.

When they stepped outside, she turned to face him. She had led him out to one of the open areas, far out into the battlefield. None of the mercenaries would be out here until tomorrow morning. It was the kind of thing an enemy did to catch a person when they were alone and kill them. He slipped a knife out of his sleeve, prepared to defend himself if need be.

“Your new contract,” she pulled a small stack of papers off of the clipboard.

“A new contract?” he questioned, as he took the packet. He started turning the pages, his eyes scanning over the fine serif print.

She clicked a pen and handed it to him, “I need you to sign it so I can bring it back to head quarters.”

“Not without me reading it first,” he ignored the pen.

“I need this signed quickly,” she said, hastily.

“What about the others?” his eyes flickered to the respawn in a gentle gesture.

Her lips became firmer, “This contract is specific to you and your class, Spy.”

“Oh?” he quirked an eyebrow at her, “Then is the RED Spy getting the same treatment from the Administrator?”

“He has already sign his contract,” she assured him, “Just sign the contract. It’s barely different from the previous one.”

“Then what was wrong with the old one?” he asked, with a dismissive shrug.

She clenched her jaw, “There are slight changes.”

“Mind highlighting them for me?” he gestured to the page, proffering it to her viewpoint.

She took a breath and started pointing out the changes. They were a verbal outline of the area that he was allowed to go in. If he were to leave the area within those guidelines, he would be punished. He was not to leave the area within the terms.

“What is this?” he asked of one section. She forcefully turned the page. “Go back to the other section.”

“This here?” she played dumb as she flipped backwards through the pages.

“Miss Pauling,” he stopped her, bringing the contract back to the page he wanted to discuss, “These terms outline an area that I am allowed within. According to this, I cannot go beyond the bar in the next town.”

“Yes, well…” she bit her lip as she thought of something to say.

“That is unacceptable,” he flicked the paper at her, leaving her to catch the pages.

“If you’d let me finish, the last change is the salary raise,” she quickly flipped to the last page.

“The changes elsewhere are unacceptable,” he pulled out his cigarette pack to light fresh stick.

“The p- the Administrator won’t accept a refusal of this kind,” Pauling said, firmly, “She clearly stated that you are to stay within the bounds of the base. We cannot allow for-”

He raised a hand to cut her off, “I’ll stick with my old contract then.” He abruptly turned and headed towards respawn.

She hurried after him, pulling at his suit jacket, “But, wait! You won’t get the salary raise if you do not accept the Administrator’s terms! You have to accept the terms!”

“I’ll get by just fine,” he said, taking a deep breath of the cigarette. He would not be kept locked in like a caged animal, not by the Administrator.

“W-what are you going to do?” she kept trying to pull him back.

He refused to accept her deal. He refused to accept the Administrator’s terms. He would do what he wanted with his free time. If that meant going beyond that bar, then so be it. Of course, that begged the question, what _was_ beyond the next town? He had been to the town beyond that. He had even been to the edge of a small city beyond that. But, what was so far out there that they would hide from the mercenaries? And no, he would not be fooled by Miss Pauling’s claims that Mann Co did not want the mercenaries found out by the rest of the world.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The moment Andrew stepped out of respawn with Demo, they were greeted by men in suits. They looked like they were all business, and he hesitated to think that they might be there to arrest them. He wondered if they were in some sort of trouble.

“We’re here with Miss Pauling,” the suits explained, “We are here to help explain the change of the terms and what they mean. We would like to discuss them with each of you.”

Andrew nodded to Demo, as they took the explosives expert first. They talked to him, then Scout and then the Heavy. When they finally talked to Andrew, they wanted his discussion to be more private than any. In fact, they took him into the conference room, dubbed the war room, where they made their master plans.

The suits paused to fiddle with the cameras within the room, before they settled in the chairs around the table. Andrew settled with his hands folded on the flat cold surface. He wondered what this would be like. If he had asked the Demo, maybe he would be less nervous. But, they had never done this with Mann Co before, and he was feeling less like a mercenary receiving higher pay and more like a criminal being put into investigation.

“We’re here to discuss your new contract,” both suits wriggled about to get comfortable in their chairs across the table from him.

“That much I am aware of,” he smiled at them.

They exchanged a look, then pulled out some files. They both seemed to have similar, or maybe different, paperwork of his. He looked between the two as they showed the papers to each other.

They finally laid the papers out on the table and Andrew blushed. He was staring at pictures of himself and the Spy together. There were shots of them walking together. Shots of them smiling at each other. And even shots of them holding hands, and not in the sense of one leading another. Andrew looked at these in horror and tried to reason out where they got these pictures.

“You see this man?” one of the suits pointed to the Spy in a picture of them holding hands.

Andrew nodded slowly, too sheepish to speak. He felt so ashamed of himself, unable to bring himself to affront these men. They were weak little parasites in comparison, but he was too wound up in his thoughts about how embarrassing it was that his employers had pictures of him and Spy being more than pals together.

“I mean, we could do more digging,” the second man leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, “But we’d rather spare the time and the dirty work. Let’s make this clear and simple.”

“This? This can’t happen,” the first man tapped his finger forcefully on the Spy’s face.

Andrew’s head turned from each man and to the picture. His attention was being thrown around like a baseball. He was not sure he could keep up much longer, even though they had just gotten started. He was just so bewildered by this.

“And to make sure it doesn’t happen…” the second man shrugged at the first man, who gave him a questioning look.

The first man folded his hands and placed them gently on the table. He lowered his voice to a gentle tone, “Look, we get it. You seem like a nice guy and all. And we don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“Those aren’t mine!” Andrew blurted. He immediately wished he could take back and reword that sentence.

“That’s because the pictures are ours,” the second man said, “But you can have these copies if you want them.”

“I mean…that’s not…you don’t…I can’t…” Andrew stammered, looking for some way to reason his way out of this. He had to pretend that him and Spy were just really good pals.

“Relax, pal!” the first man said, raising his hands a bit defensively, “Don’t need to get upset. We’re not a couple of mooks, okay? We know what’s up. But we’re not heartless. We’re not some mafia goons or whatever you soldier guys from the forties are used to.”

Andrew gave them both a questioning look. He had no idea what the first man was talking about. He seemed to be nice though, like he was trying very hard to be on Andrew’s good side. As Andrew thought about it though, he realized he could really beat the shit out of them if he wanted to. He could show them what for and shut them up about all of this.

“We’re all pals here,” the first man continued, with a slow and calm voice.

“I am not your pal, son!” Andrew slammed a fist on the table and pointed a finger at the first man.

The second man sat up in his chair and shifted a little, “Look, bottom line here. We’re just the messengers, alright? We deliver the news. The bad news? Headquarters doesn’t approve of you and the Spy. The good news? You and Spy aren’t going to get offed or fired or whatnot.”

Andrew felt his cheeks heat. He knew what offed meant. It was not impossible to do either. All they had to do was turn off respawn or get him to an area that was far from the respawn’s reach, which was difficult to do. They would likely just shut off the respawn, given they would have his employers’ authority to do so.

“Just relax,” the first man said.

“Look, we don’t wanna beat around the bush,” the second man said to the first man a bit scornfully.

“Right,” the first man nodded, “And that’s why we’re trying to say…nicely…that you gotta leave.”

“Leave? But you said I wasn’t fired!” he pointed to each of them, not remembering who said what.

“Yea, about that,” the first man scratched his neck.

“We’re moving you from Builders League United,” the second man stated.

“What?!” Andrew exclaimed.

“Don’t worry! Don’t worry!” the first man tried to be gentle and calm, “Reliable Excavation and Demolition has already offered you a more than fair deal for your contract! In fact, they’re going to place you someplace warmer than here. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Andrew leaped to his feet, throwing the chair over. He surprised both men, nearly leaping over the table as he slammed his fists into it. He could feel it bend beneath the power of his mighty fists. That felt really good, especially when they both gave him a squeamish jump.

“You maggots don’t know the first thing about war! And you wouldn’t know your place in this army! So I suggest you both take your contract offer and shove it right up your asses! In fact, why don’t I do that for you!” he roared.

“Mister Swanson!” Miss Pauling’s voice cut into his rambling.

“Not now! I’m busy!” Andrew declared, sparing her a brief glance.

“Mister Swanson, a moment of your time, please,” she slammed the door behind herself, calling all attention to herself. She looked over each man in the room, with Andrew poised over the table, getting ready to grab and shake each man. “I see this briefing is not going very well.”

“He doesn’t see reason!” the first man exclaimed.

“Shut up!” she raised her clipboard, as if she was going to swat him with it. He flinched away submissively, and she turned her attention to Andrew.

“Miss Pauling?” he paused, thinking about whether to stay standing or to sit down. He wanted to continue to be on the offensive.

“Please sit down, and let’s talk,” she insisted. She pulled the chair out from beneath the first man, who quickly got up and stepped away. The second man did the same giving her space. “I see you do not like the new offer,” she stated, taking the papers that were in front of her.

She was brushing away the pictures dismissively, when Andrew picked up one. Spy was looking at Andrew, who had his mouth open while he was talking. He looked like he was listening intently to whatever Andrew was telling him about.

“I understand how things are for you, but there are certain circumstances that have led us to this point,” Miss Pauling folded her hands and placed them on the table. She leaned towards him, with an intent expression. “I want to help you, believe me I do,” she told him, putting a lot of emphasis in her voice, “But, I cannot do anything about the Spy right now. He has to stay with this team. But you? The only option I have for you right now is to move you to Reliable Excavation and Demolition’s base down in Mexico.”

“Mexico?” Andrew flinched.

That was not a place in America. He had been assured that a place called _New Mexico_ was indeed a part of the United States. But Mexico was not a part of that.

“It’s nice there. You’ll meet a whole new team and do a slightly different but same kind of work,” Miss Pauling explained.

“I don’t want a new team,” he told her sternly, “I like this team! I want to stick with Builders League United’s team up here in this wooded place! And I don’t want to do a slightly different but same kind of work!”

“I have no choice,” she pressed, with slight desperation.

“You do have a choice!” he assured her.

“I don’t,” she glanced sideways, as if she was hiding something. When she looked back to his eyes, she had a sad glint in her corneas. “I really want to help you, Soldier. I really do, but the alternatives…”

“What are the alternatives?” Andrew lowered his voice to a growl.

“Well,” she hesitated, turning her eyes away as she thought about this, “Spy…for example…” Her fingers teased a picture that drew Andrew’s eyes.

The picture was of him and Spy sitting in the smoking room. How had this gone past him? How had Spy not realized that people were spying on them? But, perhaps that was the reason for everything. Perhaps Spy’s paranoia was not nonsense after all, and Andrew was the one being silly.

“Spy won’t be able to leave this base, but he can’t stay here if you are,” she explained slowly. Her tone and her expression was insinuating something.

“I don’t understand,” Andrew scrunched his brow.

She pushed the picture towards him, “I know you. You’re a proud man. You’d give your life for the men you work with. But the men you work with? Are their lives worth your pride?”

Andrew looked down at the picture of him and Spy talking. He felt stunned as realization washed over him. Terror started to fill him as the suggestion of Spy’s death loomed over his head.

He looked up at Miss Pauling, “You cannot be serious!”

She gave him a sad frown, “I couldn’t be more serious.”

There was a long silence as Andrew’s attention returned to the picture. What could he do? He could not risk Spy’s life. And Spy would not risk his life, not for anything.

“I have to take you today,” Pauling reached over to pat his shoulder, “So I need your answer now.”

He looked up to meet her eyes. She was pressing, trying so hard to get him to understand how she felt for him. He had to look away. This evil deed was being done to him and Spy but an unwitting messenger – the kind Miss Pauling no less.

“I don’t want Spy to die,” he stated.

“I don’t want that either,” she assured him.

He sighed, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him.”

She nodded, a look like relief painted across her face. She rose from the table and walked around to get closer to Andrew. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, being more of a comfort this time with the close proximity than before. He hunched over the pictures of him and Spy together, wishing it could all just pause so he could run to warn the Spy of what was about to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor babies.  
> I swear I'm not evil. This is just a bigger twist to everything that's going to happen. I'm just excited I'm going to get to add new characters and start revealing more of what's going on now!


	27. The New RED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is now a RED, and his new working conditions are hot as hell.  
> Spy is once again in mourning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's go down to Mexico!

The train was quiet and cold. Andrew sat in a quiet, empty car, where there was nothing but ammunition and other supplies. It was a familiar supply car that ran between base and some other location that restocked their food, weapons and other necessities. He was somewhere in the far back, using spare blankets as a seat.

He had folded his arms over his chest and fallen asleep there, hoping to pass the time away. He woke up though, finding the train uncomfortably warmer than it was when he got in. It was much too warm to be wearing his thick BLU jacket.

He sighed and rose to his feet. He was all suited up for the cold, given that the ride itself was colder than his base. When he stood up though, he had only the warning of a train horn to brace himself before the brakes threw him towards the front. He stumbled forward, tripping over a fallen bazooka. Unable to keep his feet under himself, he fell face first into the wood floor.

He groaned as he slowly peeled himself off the floor. A little blood followed him, as he found that his teeth were now bleeding. He wiped it off on his sleeve, before he started back towards his pack in the back corner. He needed to be fully equipped and ready to meet his new teammates, and that meant taking his pack with him. He wanted to be wary too, as he was sure somebody might find the pictures he had stashed away in the pack, of him and Spy.

He was picking up his pack when the door slid open. He quickly shifted it onto his shoulder and stomped to the doorway to find a clean shaven Engineer looking in. He gaped up at Andrew, his jaw hanging lopsided. It did not take Andrew long to realize that he was still wearing his BLU uniform and had yet to change into anything RED like the Engineer wore.

“I am the new RED Soldier,” he announced.

“Good to know,” a French accent caught his ear. He looked over to see a man dressed in a BLU suit watching from a distance with a cigar in his mouth.

“What’s with the Frenchie?” the Soldier asked.

“Oh…yea…gosh, he’s just here to pick up his team’s supplies,” the Engineer offered him help out of the car, “He won’t bother us none, not while we’re by the supply train.” He surprisingly did not sound Texan, but he still sounded like some sort of cowboy, especially with that white hat shading his brow.

“Yes yes,” the Frenchman rolled his eyes dismissively, as he strode over to the train, “Truce outside of the forts and whatnot.” He clambered right into the train car with ease.

“Mind sliding some stuff my way? I’ll lift it down,” the Engineer called after him.

“Fine,” the Spy called back.

The Engineer turned back to Andrew, his face turning pink, “You uh…I didn’t know you were from BLU.”

It was Andrew’s turn to blush, “I didn’t get a chance to change out of uniform.”

“I can see that,” the Engineer eyed him from head to foot, “Ain’t you hot in that?”

“Extremely,” Andrew nodded.

“How ‘bout you meet me at the truck, I got the cooler on in there,” Engineer motioned to a truck sitting nearby.

He nodded to the Engineer in gratitude, before he trotted off to the vehicle. He stripped off his overcoat and tossed it into the back before he hopped inside. As promised, the cab was cool, with cold air blowing from the vents. He stripped off his undercoat and folded it up. He quickly switched it out by slipping it into the pack for the RED labeled shirt.

He wriggled out of the blue shirt and slipped into the red one. He would not need a jacket, not in this heat. Mexico was a much hotter place than any place he remembered. He might well just get rid of the overcoat while he was at it.

When he looked up from what he was doing, he saw that the Engineer and Spy were working on lifting and carrying things, sorting them between BLU and RED. They looked like they were having a bit of a rough time in the heat, the Frenchman wiping a hand across his sweaty brow.

Andrew sighed and slipped from the cab. He would have to help them out if they were going to get out of here sooner. When he approached, they were both surprised, quick to move out of his way. It was as if he had some sort of disease, or was some untouchable thing. Still, he quietly clambered into the train car and helped the Spy lug everything out into the bright light. Half of it was labeled for Reliable Excavation and Demolition and the other half for Builders League United. That BLU label made him feel a bit homesick when he looked at it.

“Mighty big thanks for that, partner,” the cowboy smiled.

Andrew did not feel like smiling. All he felt like doing was sitting in a corner, pulling at his knees and quietly waiting for the end of pain. But that was not the kind of man he was. No sir. He would keep working until his bones were too tired and then after – especially seeing two men suffering in this sweltering heat.

Still, he managed a small smile for the Engineer. It was the least he could do for the friendly RED. He would have to be friendly with the RED, since he was a RED too now. They were both REDs, which made them teammates. The BLU Spy on the other hand, he was slinking around, trying to carry things back to the ambulance he drove out here.

After they had loaded RED’s supplies, Andrew went over to help the BLU Spy. The man was helpless compared to the Engineer, having very little muscle mass, as far as Andrew could tell. He was certainly lithe, but not as strong as the BLU Spy he knew back up in the woods.

“You do not have to help me,” the Spy grunted, as Andrew took a bazooka from the man’s arms. He obviously could not handle carrying more than half his own weight. “You are no longer a BLU Soldier,” he stated.

“We have a truce,” Andrew stated, as he lifted some boxes of ammunition to carry to the BLU’s ambulance, “That means we do not kill each other. That also means we do not let each other die.”

Both men gave him a puzzled look, but Andrew said nothing. True, he probably did have some bias. This guy looked nothing like his Jacques, but he was wearing a BLU suit. He had the French accent, with that classy look that suited such Frenchmen. Of course, he thought Jacques wore it better, being more suited to the shape of his tailored attire.

If he thought about it though, nobody else on his team or RED’s back in the woods would do this, except for him. That was the kind of man he was. BLU or RED, if they had had some sort of truce like this, he would have aided them to help them out of sweltering heat or painful cold. At least, he would like to think that he would do that.

“Just try not to be so nice on the battlefield, mon ami,” the Frenchman chuckled.

“See you there, snake,” the Engineer chuckled as they tossed the last bag of bread into the Frenchman’s vehicle.

Andrew’s back straightened and he tensed, “I am _not_ your mon ami!”

Before he could say anything else, the ambulance kicked up dust as it took off down the dirt road. They were both left to cough in the whirlwind of dirt, until they made their way back to the truck that was still running. They both sighed, happy to be in the cool air the cab provided for them.

“Mind some tunes?” the Engineer asked, as they started down the road, “I brought some English ones with me.”

“I am unfamiliar with British music!” he stated, feeling thoroughly stumped that the man was offering European songs.

“Nah, I mean…” the Engineer paused, still looking at him and not the road.

It did not matter so much, since there was not much here to actually hit. There were rocks and a few holes around. Maybe he could hit a cactus, but that was about it.

The Engineer chuckled and hit the play button. The low drawl of some Tennessee country star came onto the radio when the Engineer finally spoke, “Never mind.”

Andrew blushed, feeling embarrassed. How was he supposed to know he meant language instead of country? Sure he had not met an Englishman around, but from what the Demoman back in the woods told him, most English anything was British in some form.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy shook with fury. Soldier was gone. There was no farewell. There was no warning. There was nothing but the empty room in which Soldier used to sleep in, and the announcement that they would be receiving a replacement.

This was what everything came down to. This was what the RED Spy was trying to warn him of. If nothing else, Sniper could have been more clear about what could come of all of this snooping. Of course, he had not expected it to lead to Andrew’s demise, only his own.

“Did she just intend for us to find out indirectly?” Spy demanded, slamming his drink down on the bar.

The Demoman shied away slightly, “Easy there, lad. I’d not be drinking so quickly in that state of mind.”

“Oh sure, you can take it lightly,” Spy rounded on him. He gave the man a furious glare.

He knew how Spy felt about the Soldier. He knew what was going on between them. He knew all about that, and yet he had the gall to scorn him on his drinking habits – the drunk no less.

“Demo’s right, take it easy,” Sniper clapped his shoulder.

Spy ducked his head, unable to look at Sniper. Sniper did not understand. He did not know what Spy was going through. He did not know how unbearable this pain was. He did not understand where Spy’s heart was.

“I need another drink,” Spy muttered.

Demo sighed as he refilled the glass, “Since when do you take to beating me at drinking?”

“Are you really that sore about a friend leaving? Am I that bad of a friend?” Sniper asked.

When Spy peered over, he found the weirdest but cutest look on Sniper’s face of pure unadultered sadness. Of course he hurt the Sniper by spending so much time with Andrew. Of course the Sniper was feeling replaced by the man with whom Spy shared so much, when with others he shared so little. It was almost interesting to know that he could make Sniper feel that way.

“If it were you gone, I would still be drinking,” he stated, as if to make the Sniper feel better.

“The thought is nice, but seriously mate,” the Sniper leaned in close. He did not even realize that he was making electricity run through Spy’s body when his hand touched his arm. “You’ve got to pull yourself together,” the Sniper insisted, “You’ve got much more to work for than that guy. I know you just made up or whatnot, but I know you’re not one to cry over spilled milk.”

“And don’t get him started on spilled blood!” the Demoman cracked a laugh.

“Cheers to that mate,” Sniper snickered.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Spy glared at each of them.

“Sorry lad, but bets on you say that you would be the first of anyone to stab a pal in the back,” the Demoman said, with only a slightly apologetic tone of voice.

“And you wouldn’t even hesitate doing it,” Sniper added with a nod.

“That’s what you think of me?” Spy scoffed at them.

“What else would we think of ya?” Demo demanded, “You slink around. You keep in secret. You stab backs. You make as many secrets as you keep. You manipulate everyone you can. Half the time we’re concerned that you’re a RED in disguise!”

Spy rolled his eyes and turned away from the bar. He would not give the Demo his full attention if this was how he was going to rip into him. He did not need this at all, he needed a warmth in his throat and a warmth in his belly. He needed to feel something that would sweep him out of the lurking feeling of depression and agony. All they were doing was fueling his already burning hot anger.

“Charm any lady into your bed down at the bar,” Sniper stated, as if daring him to do it, “But you couldn’t possibly charm any of these men into being your friend.”

Spy rolled his eyes again, disgusted by Sniper’s words, “I’ll take no part in this discussion.” He waved off the topic dismissively, as he took his glass and left.

He found that he was not left alone though. Sniper followed him through the recreation room and out of the base. Andrew would come out here when he needed air. Right now, Spy needed a cigarette. He needed a lot more than a cigarette, he needed Andrew, but a cigarette was all he could have at the moment.

“Spy,” Sniper called out to him, as he approached.

“What do you want now?” Spy asked, pretending not to have known he was being followed.

“You’re seriously going to be sore about a man choosing a different path in life?” the Sniper asked, “Maybe it was for the better? Maybe the pay is better at the other base?”

Rage built up in Spy. Andrew would not be in it for the money. He had told Spy himself that money did not matter to him. This job did not even matter to him that much. Only reason he wanted to keep it was that he had nothing else to go on for, and the respawn kept him alive. That was all either of them wanted from this career, that and the chance to shoot some really cool weapons at other people shooting back at them.

“You’re going to go through another wave of depression if you do this again,” Sniper stated, “But you’re better than this, I know you are.”

Spy peeked over his shoulder at Sniper, curiously. At least the man knew some things about him. At least he seemed to be paying some attention to certain details. Perhaps this friend was less pretend than he had previously thought.

“Glenn, have you ever wondered what it would be like…if the stars stopped shining and you were just…all alone in the dark?” Spy asked, looking up at the sky. Andrew was his star, and without him there, what was the point of looking at those lights?

“Huh?” Sniper was taken aback by the question.

Spy sighed, “Never mind.” He took a deep puff of his cigarette, drawing it deep into his lungs.

 

*********************************************************************

 

When they arrived at the base, Andrew was not surprised to find no welcoming party. It was not like he could expect anybody to want him there. He was a new person, nobody knew him and possibly nobody wanted him. He had reasoned that out too – aside from Spy, and possibly the Demoman, nobody wanted him back in the woods. They were probably happy to see him go.

There were at least quite a few pleasant smiles though. Most of them were hiding in a recreational room full of fans and a small air conditioning unit. Even the Pyro, a class he had never seen outside of the suits, was stripped down to bare clothes. He was only identifiable by the flame icon embroidered into his clothing.

“Hello new Soldier!” the Heavy greeted him with a wave of a large hand and a smile. He looked so similar to the Heavys from back in the woods, they could have all been related.

“Hi there!” the Pyro waved, giving him a giddy smile. He seemed to be a twig, with barely enough muscle to be around carrying large equipment.

“Howdy fellas!” the Engineer greeted them, “This here’s our new Soldier. Soldier, mind introducing yourself?”

They all went quiet, turning curious looks at him. Andrew took the moment to scan over them. Normally he would have just blurted out his title and something about being American, but something told him to be warier than that. Do not follow old instincts, he told himself. He needed to make new instincts.

“Yes, I am the Soldier,” he stated bluntly, “I worked in a base up in America, where I am originally from. Now I am here in Mexico. With you. Working for RED.” He clamped up, feeling like he might be rambling on, like a wheel that was turning too much.

“Well, it’s nice to meet a Soldier who can actually speak with his tongue and not out his arse!” the Demoman laughed, slapping his knee.

This Demo was not like the Demomen he knew. He was dark, but not as dark. He could almost be called white, but the dark skin tone started to become evident from the sun tanning, and that nose shape that went along with his thick lips. It was possible that he was mostly white, but Andrew could see from certain features that his skin tone did not tell his full genetic history.

The Scout stood up from where he was perched, swinging around a bat. He had a weird outfit that was left open to breathe by two buttons on his chest, showing some of his chest hair. He had a weird look about him too, one that said he was looking for a fight. He would be handsome, if not for his cockily shown off chest, which was not at all impressive.

“I’m the Scout,” he stated. He sounded kind of like the other Scout but different, maybe somewhere farther east. “People call me Brock though,” he added.

“Nobody calls you Brock!” the Spy had a non-French accent. That puzzled Andrew a lot, as he had no clue about accents.

“Nobody calls you anything, _Maurice_ ,” the Scout said, putting poignant emphasis on the name.

The Spy rolled his eyes with a bit of some language rolling off of his tongue. Andrew could not quite make it out though. He could not be sure if it was French or not.

“Calm down everybody, okay?” the Sniper stepped forward. He was tall and lanky, but looked like he could be related to the Pyro. That was when Andrew realized that they were probably Mexican. “He just got here. Let him relax a bit and adjust to his surroundings.”

“He’s had quite the trip down from some cold place up north,” the Engineer added, “Was wearing a thick overcoat when he came out the train.”

“You from somewhere cold?” the Pyro asked. Andrew nodded in response. “Was it nice?” the Pyro asked, with a peacefully dreamy look in his eye, like he wanted to go there badly, “Does it snow?”

“I used to work in the snow,” he stated, “But where I was before I came here it just rained a lot. Too much mud. Too much cold.”

There was a long silence, before the Engineer touched his elbow, “I’ll show you to your room and you can settle in.”

Andrew thought that was the best idea he had heard all day. He was overwhelmed, it was hot out and everybody here looked like tall drinks of water. Maybe it was the sunlight here, being as they got all the precious nutrition the sunlight could offer in Mexico, and back in the woods, the people he saw were all pale and not cleaned up. Not that Andrew would forego a shave for the sake of warmth, but perhaps that was an instinctual or unconscious decision among many of the mercenaries back in the woods. Nobody back there was as cleaned up and good looking as these men.

Well, that was save for the Spies and the Medics. But Spies were dashingly handsome men, especially Jacques. They knew how to clean up for the people they wanted to attract. Medics just needed to be cleaned up for medical reasons or something? He was not sure about the medical professionals.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy glanced sideways at the lanky Australian he was lying next to. He was surprised by the turn of events, but somehow he ended up here on the top of the camper. He had been invited up there, because for some odd reason the Sniper thought he wanted to star gaze. In the end, at least he understood that Spy did not want to be alone.

“You alright, mate?” Sniper asked.

“I’m fine, mate,” Spy replied, teasingly.

“Now you’re just using that word wrong,” Sniper frowned up at him.

Without his hat on, Sniper was just as good looking, but his hair was all smashed down from the apparel. The way his hair streamed down into bushy sideburns was easier to see though. He could even see that the Sniper had recently had a haircut, and Spy had not even noticed it before.

Still, his eyes became drawn to the Sniper’s eyes, glinting in the light of stars. He was right at home, here in the wilderness. He could sleep comfortably beneath the stars, if not for the constant threat of rain in this place. The outdoorsman was used to the hot outback in Australia, not the cold dense weather of Colorado woods – even though they had been working in the cold for over thirty years.

“Would you prefer my French?” Spy switched to his native language.

“I don’t speak your language, Spy,” Sniper stated, “I told you that.”

Spy giggled, gleeful at Sniper’s words. He could say all kinds of weird things around Sniper. One time he kind of told him how much he wanted to fuck him, because he was drunk. He got away with it because he was speaking French and nobody else around that night spoke a lick of the tongue.

“You feel better?” Sniper asked, with a crooked smile.

Spy frowned, his mind brought back to the reason he was upset before. Not like he was crying or anything. He was completely depressed though. The feeling of despair and woe was definitely taking over him. Even a moment of thinking about the Soldier’s big goofy smile, or the way he stomped around the base, or how his eyes lit up when he managed to make Spy smile – all of that made him wallow in the thick of the dark feelings. He pulled out a new cigarette and lit it up.

“Sorry mate, I didn’t mean to remind you,” Sniper sat up to pat his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” Spy assured him, “I just need this.” He gestured with the cigarette as he blew a puff of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end. Relax. The story is going to unfold soon enough.


	28. RED Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew gets to know his new team and some of his enemies.  
> BLU Demo goes to have a chat with Miss Pauling about the situation with Spy and Soldier.  
> Andrew gets invited to a big party, but he does not really get into it.

August 2001

Andrew was surprised at this new team. They were really good. The BLU team here was really good too. They were highly competitive, and extremely serious about everything they did on the battlefield. It was off the battlefield that they became complacent and even friendly. In fact, he thought that some of the BLU teammates hung out with RED teammates.

He found himself hanging out with the RED Engineer most of all. He did not know what it was about the guy, he just always ended up at his side. He felt pretty lucky for it, because the man was more than just polite, he was almost too sweet, and extremely helpful. He taught him everything he needed to know to get along with this team.

Andrew _would_ get along well with this team. He _would_ if he cared to be social. They refused to accept his gruff dismissal of their invitations, dragging him off to drinking parties that often resulted in midnight trekking to the enemy base where a war of drinking games involving weapons took place. It was too much fun, Andrew had to admit that, but by the end of the night he was still lonely and depressed.

Work was interesting. These were new people with new ways of fighting. RED Engineer was not as aggressive as any Engineer he ever knew. He would stick to a similar spot every time, just holding up a defense. He was really good at the defense though.

RED Scout was fast but not very good at jumping. He often missed the jumps he was aiming for, so the BLU Scout, a boy who shouted about the “west side” all the time – whatever or wherever that was – often escaped the RED Scout.

Good thing the RED Sniper was such a good shot though. He was good at catching the BLU Scout. He used up a lot of ammunition though, and greedily filled his nests with more ammo than seemed necessary.

The BLU Sniper was not quite as pleasant. He was a stout South American, who threw piss at anybody who came too close for him to shoot. That was the most unpleasant meeting Andrew had of any of them, still not as bad as the Demoman’s explosives.

The Demoman was a man with an explosive temper. So much for the friendly type he had grown used to. He had to get used to tip toeing around the team’s angriest drunk.

The Heavy was a quiet man. He was friendly, but seemed unassuming, as if unsure of his place or ranking among friends. He was always up for a discussion if it was one on one though.

The Spy was as sneaky as they come. But there was something different about their Spy, more than just his non-French-European accent though. Andrew could not put his finger on it though.

The BLU Spy seemed pretty usual for a Spy. He reminded Andrew of both Spies from back in the woods. But, he would always put Jacques three rungs higher in every aspect. The RED Spy from back in the woods though, that man was certainly more cunning and more cutthroat than either of the Spies here.

That had to be it though. The people here were serious and really good at what they did, but none of them were cutthroat about it. They were not thirsty for blood parse, they just wanted to win the match. At the end of the day, they might as well have been all pals.

He never heard the BLU Medic speak. Maybe he was deaf. He never called out when he was fully charged for an uber or a krit. He was never very communicative with his team and that was bad for BLU.

RED Medic was a very different situation. He was quick to get digging into Andrew’s chest for that implant he barely remembered BLU Medic implanting into him. He had been so scornful of everything about Andrew’s insides, especially of how _poorly_ his heart had been handled in the process of the implant. Andrew did not think the doctor was all that bad, and came to hate being in that infirmary. So he avoided the Medic at every turn.

It was late in the summer when Andrew stumbled upon something that he figured he should not have. He was heading through a building, hoping to buy himself a few minutes of rest before going back out into the fray. Here in the shady area, it was easier to handle the heat. It was so hot here in Mexico that he could not believe the sun was not killing him.

Something like voices caught his attention. They were soft voices, speaking like ghosts in the shadow. Curious and confused, he stood stock still. Was it in his head again? It sounded very real though, and he could not be sure that it was not real unless he took a look.

He crept quietly around the building, moving cautiously up a set of stairs. Perhaps it was that BLU Sniper, probably trying to set up a nest in secret. He would have to be cautious if he did not want to smell like piss for the rest of the day. Still, taking out the Sniper this quick would make things much easier for his team to win.

That encouraged him to keep going upward. He switched the bazooka out for his shotgun. He would not get close enough to hit the man with a shovel. That was just asking for a face full of glass and piss. He would not ask for a jar of the man’s pee to be thrown into his face.

He lowered his body on the last few steps. He removed his helmet as he raised his head cautiously over the edge. He scanned the window areas for a Sniper, but found nothing. He was immediately puzzled and started up the last few steps.

A gasp came from behind him and he spun around. He was surprised to see both of the Spies there. RED Spy’s back was to him, his hands pressed into the palms of the BLU Spy, pushing his hands to the wall. The BLU Frenchman was gaping at Andrew with horror, but he was being pushed into a kiss by his RED counterpart.

Andrew could only stare with disbelief. The Spies were entangled in a romantic moment right in the middle of a match. And they were enemies no less! Sure the teams had shown themselves to be pretty empathetic and friendly to each other, but he never thought that there were any romantic cohorts.

The RED Spy finally broke the kiss to turn his head. He had a questioning look on his face until he saw Andrew behind him, “Soldier?!”

He spun, stunned and frightened. He quickly started stammering over explanations and excuses. He tried to make Andrew stay there and stay quiet so he could try and make sense of everything.

Andrew could not though. He was not angry or anything like that. Andrew was confused, and a bit embarrassed, so he would rather leave. He ran down the stairs, leaving his helmet behind.

He regrouped with the RED Engineer, panting and pretending to be utilizing the dispenser’s healing effects. He needed a minute to be away from the fighting and away from the Spies. He doubted they would try to explain themselves to him here in front of the Engineer. He was out in the open and next to a good man no less. He would be safe from the embarrassing situations.

“Amico, allow me to explain,” the RED Spy’s voice took him by surprise and he spun around.

He spun around to see the RED Spy standing next to a copy of himself. He looked between them, stunned at what he was seeing. The Engineer had to be seeing this.

“I didn’t get a chance to explain myself,” one of the two insisted.

“Spy here!” Engineer swung his wrench around to grab his shotgun.

“Engineer please!” one of the Spies stepped forward, his hands raised, “We need to…speak with the Soldier. Please!”

His plea was heard by the American, who placed his shotgun on top of the dispenser. Soldier watched in shock. He could not believe what was happening, and during a match no less. They were supposed to be competitive, a little aggressive even. Granted, most of these men were not that aggressive, not aggressive like the men back in the woods. Still, they were not supposed to be supportive and friendly with their enemies, especially when they were supposed to be shooting each other in the head.

“Make it quick, boys,” the Engineer said, pulling off his hardhat to rub his shaven head with a rag.

Andrew looked from the Engineer to the Spies with disbelief. Was this really happening? Were they seriously going to have a conversation about this, with the BLU Spy here? They were not going to shoot the BLU Spy who was obviously right there pretending to be the RED Spy?

“Look…Soldier…” one of the two Spies said, with a slow but nervous voice, “What you saw back there. We um…we er…”

The other stepped in, “We understand if you have your own biases, but whatever the case, we beg that you do not tell anyone.”

“Please!” the first agreed, pleading with all the might in his voice.

Andrew looked from one to the other, still feeling stunned. He was not able to think clearly. He was not even able to wrap his head around it all right now. They were still in the middle of a match, so they were supposed to be fighting not talking like gossiping women.

“We’ll pay you,” the second Spy insisted.

“Spy? What the hell did you do?” the Engineer intervened.

“Please don’t,” the second Spy raised a hand to the Engineer.

“We’ll do whatever you want,” the first Spy kept his attention on Andrew, “Just please, do not tell anyone about any of this!”

“Please!” the second added.

He looked from one Spy to the other, feeling confused. He could not be sure which one was the real RED and which one was the BLU. Whatever the case, they obviously cared about each other. And if this was anything like his love for Jacques, they would do anything to be together, and probably got to that point to be doing this during a match. Likely they would sink into depressed loneliness like he did, if they were separated.

It hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized what could happen to them. What happened to him and Jacques could very well happen to them. There was no telling where they would be sent, or if either of them would remain. They would be separated, and their hearts would hurt over it. They would probably have no warning of it either, and they would not have a chance to say goodbye when the time came.

The pain hit him and he deflated. He did not want to do anything anymore. He wanted to tuck himself into a corner and pull his knees to his chest. He wanted to lay his forehead on his legs and wait for death to come from thirst and hunger. He wanted to let everything in life go.

“Soldier?” one of the Spies finally spoke after a long silence.

“I…Soldier?” the Engineer gently shook his shoulder.

He looked over at the Engineer. The man gave him a cute little crooked smile and a blush. He seemed like he was rather moved by the Spies’ pleas.

“Think you could find it in your heart to keep this under wraps for them?” he pleaded with him.

Andrew let out a huff and touched his head. That was when he realized that he was missing his helmet. No wonder his eyes could not be hidden, he was not even wearing a hat of any sort.

“I have no reason to tell anybody anything,” he told them all, “I won’t be telling a soul. Just go on about your day. But, be careful, son.” He shook a warning finger at the Spies, who look at it as if in offense. “Because I can’t save you when somebody else finds you out!”

They both went silent, stunned either by his words or his tone. He did not stick around to find out which. He tromped off to find his helmet.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Miss Pauling was surprised to find a familiar BLU Demoman waiting for her in her office. He was sitting in the chair opposite of hers, just flipping through some pamphlet that had been sitting there. Normally mercenaries were not allowed here, so she was not sure how he managed to get past the secretary.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, suddenly.

“Ah Miss Pauling,” he gave her a cheery big smile, setting the Mann Co Productions advertisement pamphlet aside, “Good to see ya! Just thought I’d stop by ‘n’ see ya.”

“Cut the courtesies, Mister Forbes,” she said, curtly, “What are you here for?”

“I’m here about that Soldier you took from my team!” he pounded a fist into the desk, letting out his frustration and energy.

“Well, then you’re going to have to file some paperwork,” she stated, walking around the desk to her chair.

“That’s it? All I gotta do is file some messy paperwork?” he asked, his voice rising with excitement. He was no doubt relieved to hear there was some way to make this work out.

“It’s not that simple,” she stated, as she took her seat, “You have to submit the paperwork. It gets sent to the board, and the board decides whether to accept or deny your request. Given extenuating circumstances…” She let herself shrug as she thought about the Spy and the Soldier, along with how much she wished to put them back together. “It’s improbable that they will agree to let the Soldier return.”

“What? Is our network so harsh that they don’t care about the men they work to the bone, for entertainment programs they aren’t even aware they’re a part of?” the Demoman demanded, “That’s bullshit!”

“I know,” she assured him, “And that’s why I’ve been working on a new project.”

“What new project? No. You know what? I don’t wanna hear about it. All I want is my friend back,” he told her.

“You would call the Soldier your friend?” she was genuinely surprised by that.

She never really thought most people would call the Soldier a friend. The class required a type of man who was boisterous and not easy to get along with. Not to mention the way people acted around him on and off camera. It was easy to guess that most people disliked being around him. Perhaps she had misjudged the team all along.

“Yea!” he exclaimed, offended by her question.

“Look,” she tried to bring his attention back to the project she had at hand. It would be important for this, and if she had his help, maybe it could work out. “This project isn’t easy, but it’s set to make everything more open and accepting for people like Soldier. You know the world out there? It’s not like this. The people who work here tailor to an outdated type of people. They want the older crowd. But, I’m tailoring the shows to a younger crowd, gaining a larger audience from the younger groups.”

“What’ll you reckon will happen with that? And how do you even plan to make it happen?” he demanded.

She smiled at that, “Young people want something new. So, we give them something new. The shows have mostly been about the action. You know? The cameras on the bases have mostly just been there for added small bits. But, they’re becoming a larger part of the shows. People enjoy watching you guys hang out and bond after work hours. And the drama? That’s what’s going to bring in the younger crowd.”

“So, tell me again,” he sounded confused and lost, “How does this help Soldier?”

“The older crowds don’t want to see a gay Soldier. Spy’s an exception we can manage,” she waved a hand dismissively at the mention of the Spy, “But, there is a…standard for each class. The Soldier is the straight laced American type. There are rules about that. And moving out of that standard by approving of non-American things…and being involved in homosexual activities…that doesn’t sit well with producers who think their entire demographic is men and women their own age.”

“The point lass?” he pressed, boredly.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “The point is that the younger demographic is more open with these types of things. The group in general holds a stronger sense of acceptance of gays, lesbians, queers, etcetera. In fact, it’s part of how they are being drawn in. They _want_ to see it.”

“They wanna see grown ass men in their fifties holding hands and kissing?” the Demoman asked, with astonished disbelief.

She nodded slowly, “I don’t understand it, but it’s the truth. My research, and of course my assistants’ research, has shown that the current youth is attracted to shows that show progressive standards surrounding sexuality and identity.”

“Sexuality and identity,” she could see him rolling his tongue around in his mouth as he thought about these words.

“I’ve got five new teams of women already lined up. Believe it or not, your base isn’t far from one of our first bases set up with female teams,” she explained, a bit excitedly.

This project was something special to her, and it was a thrill to think that she could put women in a team and make them just as effective as an all-male team. The next step would be to mesh the teams, make them male and female. Co-op teams would require some time and adjustment. She was not sure that most mercenaries were ready to have women move into their bases and live so close to them.

“And um…” she hesitated for thought, “We sent Andrew down to a- down to a project in Mexico.”

“Mexico?” the Demo blinked at her with disbelief, “Why’d you send the poor man outta the country? You know he can’t hardly figure out his way around an English speaking town!”

“He’ll be fine,” she assured him, “It’s already been five or six weeks and he’s getting along well with them down there. The Engineer’s been helping him out. Plus, that entire project is full of people just like him.”

“Full of people just like him?” he leaned forward with a questioning look in his eye, “What you mean by that, lass?”

She hesitated, licking her lips nervously. Talking about the project made her excited. Thinking about its projected success made her even more excited. But talking to somebody about it was something different. She did not get to tell many about it. Telling the Demoman, however, was something different.

Still, she felt he needed to know. He had to be aware that she was trying. She had not quit on the two men who loved each other. They needed each other, from what she could tell. She wanted to bring that spark back to those particular men, and put them back in their proper team.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew lifted his head as several men came laughing into the recreational area. He had been there alone, smoking a cigar and drinking a beer. It was too hot out to go outside, so he waited for it to cool off to go get air. That usually meant sitting in the recreational room, but this was the first time it had ever been so empty and quiet.

“There you are, Soldier!” the Scout called out to him, “Brother, we are going clubbing!”

“Clubbing?” Andrew scrunched his brow as he tried to think of what kind of creature they might be beating over the head.

“We’re gonna go to the club and dance!” the Demo said, cocking his head side to side in a weird way that made his earring bounce against his neck, “You wanna come?”

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” the Scout insisted.

“I don’t dance,” Andrew stated. He looked down at the long neck bottle in his hand with a frown. “And I’m drinking.” He had drank so much in the past month, he was not sure his kidney could handle that mileage of drinking.

“Honey, there’s gonna be plenty of alcohol where we’re going,” the Demoman said, with a chuckle. He had a weird way of talking, especially when he called people _honey_ and other pet names.

“I do not want to go,” Andrew stated.

“Aww! Come on!” the Demo whined.

“It won’t be the same without you!” the Scout insisted.

“We’re gonna party! It’ll be fun!” the Demo added.

The Pyro, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke up, “We just want you to feel invited! You’re new and all, man. So…like…you might feel outed, but we really want you to feel included, right?” Scout and Demo nodded in agreement with his statement.

Finally, the other silent man spoke up, slinking forward in his red suit, “If he does not want to go, he does not have to go.”

“Man, we’re just trying to invite him,” Scout said, defensively, “He doesn’t have to go if he don’t wanna.”

Andrew looked at the toes of his boots. They were being really nice about including him in their activities. Not many men would do that. Sure Demoman used to pull him into their drinking parties, but not much else included him without his own pressure.

“You are putting a lot of pressure on the man,” the Spy explained to them, “Let him drink his beer alone if that is what he wants. Not every man enjoys the club life.”

“True…true,” Scout put up his hands defensively.

“We don’t mean any harm,” Demo added.

“Is everybody ready?” the Sniper came into the recreational room, tailed by the Engineer. The Sniper looked all dressed up weird, as if for some costume event, while Engineer just wore his regular old overalls.

“Oh, are you going to the club?” the Engineer pointed to Andrew, hesitantly.

Andrew looked at him with surprise. He fumbled at first, forgetting that his answer could be a simple no. He did not have to go anyways.

“That’s great! It’ll be fun! You’ll have a blast!” the Sniper said, excitedly.

“I think he’s decided not to go,” the Demoman told Sniper.

“Oh…really?” he turned to Andrew.

Before Andrew could open his mouth, the Scout spoke up, “Guess the guy doesn’t do clubbing or something.”

“Ever been to a club?” Sniper asked, to which Andrew shook his head. Sniper smirked, glancing between the other men and Andrew. “Let me speak your language. I’ll put it simple, okay? There will be girls.”

Andrew quirked an eyebrow at him. He got the point of the sentence and that it was supposed to entice him to the club, but he did not understand why people still used that anymore. It never did work on him back in the day and it would not now. Back then it did not work because of how shy he was. Nowadays it did not work because, truth be told, he did not want a girl, he wanted Jacques.

“I wasn’t planning on going myself,” the Engineer stated, shyly. His face was red with bashfulness. “But if you’re going, I’m game.”

“Engie? Engie would go?!” Scout exclaimed.

“Now you have to come!” Demo exclaimed, excitedly.

“Please?” Scout pleaded.

“It’ll be fun!” Sniper insisted.

“You don’t even have to stay that long, just come for drinks,” Pyro insisted.

Andrew had his mouth open, wanting to speak, but having nothing to say. He looked from one man to the next, feeling uncertain about himself. What was he supposed to do? He could not be the reason Engineer was not included in something. So he had to say yes.

 

The club was a brightly lit up building from the outside. By the time the pulled up to it, it had gotten dark out, and the lights were shining brightly. Everything seemed to be moving on the inside, behind dark windows.

At the front door, they were greeted by a bouncer, a man who guarded the door and its number of occupants. It took a bit of talking in some foreign language before the group was allowed into the club. Pyro took him by the arm to lead him in.

“Stick with me, man. I’ll help you order drinks and stuff,” the Pyro said to him. It was not easy staying with him, as the moment they stepped inside, the Pyro became distracted and interested in something new.

Inside the club, Andrew’s ears were admitted to a loud pounding of odd noise that threatened his eardrums and his sanity. A mix of flashing lights flared all around him, while bodies danced about with excitement. Somewhere up on a stage, a young man was announcing something over a microphone, but he could not make it out.

He nearly collapsed, catching himself on a nearby column. He was breathing heavily as he tried to bring his senses back under control Nobody else seemed to notice. Everybody else seemed to have forgotten that he was there.

Then Engineer seemed to remember him, because he came to his side and held him up by his arm. He guided Andrew around the club, steering him towards a set of couches surrounding tables. Who sets up couches around tables? That seemed odd to him, but he much preferred sitting down to standing up.

He did not hear what Engineer was saying, but he could see the man was saying something. He scrunched his brow, making a face that he hoped conveyed his confusion. His ears were starting to ring, so there was no hope of actually hearing anything he said.

The Engineer disappeared for a while, and when he came back he set a drink in front of him. He hoped it was water, but it turned out to be something sharp on the rocks. He winced but threw back the entire drink. He threw the Engineer a thank you.

After a while, the Engineer took his arm and led him away from the couches. He followed him, half blinded by the feeling of walls closing in on him. Rising to his feet just made him dizzy, so he practically leaned on the man. He hoped that he was not going to be stuck here much longer, and was relieved when they stumbled out into the cool air.

The desert air got very cold for such a hot place. This was a relief, added to the relative silence and the openness. Andrew stumbled forward and bent over with his hands on his knees. He panted, trying to regain his wits, while his mind spun.

“You okay there?” he finally heard the Engineer this time.

Andrew took a deep breath, but remained bent over as he spoke, “I don’t do well with loud noises.”

“Ah…I see,” Engineer rubbed his back, “I was starting to think the drink was getting to you. You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

“No,” Andrew breathed deeply as he forced himself to stand up straight.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Engineer continued rubbing his back.

“I’ll be fine,” Andrew assured him. He paused to rub his lower back. “I need to go lay down though. I need to go back to the base,” he insisted.

“We can go in my truck,” Engie threw his thumb down the street, “The others brought the other truck, so they should be fine.”

Andrew sighed in relief and followed the Engineer down the street to his vehicle. The trip back to base was spent in relative silence, with the crooning of a Kentucky country singer coming from the speakers. At least it was better than trying to talk about what the hell was going on in the club or why he could not function once they were inside.

 

Once they were back at the base, the Engineer brought him to the couch in the recreational room. He was about to get up to go to his room, when the Engineer returned with a couple of beers.

“I figure it’s better’n nothing,” he offered him the drink opened.

Andrew nodded in gratitude, “Thanks Engie.”

The man smiled in response and sat himself down in the lounge chair nearby. It reminded Andrew of Spy, how he kept himself intimately distant when they were first getting to know each other. That thought made him smile as he put the bottle to his lips.

“I thought you’d enjoy some quiet and a cold beer,” Engineer smiled.

“Well,” Andrew paused, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He did not shave as much lately, allowing more than a five o’clock shadow to grow across his jaw. “I like to think myself social,” he hesitated, seeing the frown in the corner of his eye, “Or at least I used to be. But that kind of party is too big and too loud. I haven’t been the same since the war. I can’t handle that kind of noise in my head.”

“The war?” Engineer’s brow furrowed a little, “You been to war? ‘Nam?”

“What’s ‘Nam?” Andrew gave him a puzzled look.

“The war in Vietnam,” the Engineer offered.

“Oh, I never been to Vietnam,” Andrew replied, “I went to Belgium…Poland…you know, places in Europe.”

“Oh wow,” the Engineer smiled awkwardly, “You sound like a well-traveled man.”

“I don’t claim to know anything about those countries,” Andrew admitted, “Only that I’ve been there. I was there for the war, so I was focused.”

Engineer scratched his scalp with a curious look on his face, “You weren’t talking about World War two, were you?”

“I was,” Andrew nodded.

“I see,” Engineer nodded thoughtfully. He gave him a smile, one that had less awkwardness and more certainty to it. “You might be one of the last veterans from that war, my friend,” the Engineer chuckled.

“Oh, I see you’ve made it back safe,” the Spy’s familiar voice was unmistakable.

“Oh, hey Spy,” Engineer scratched his scalp again.

Spy smirked at Engineer, giving him a strange look, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Actually, I was thinking of going to lay down anyways,” Andrew said, glancing at his half empty bottle, “Thanks Engie. I just…need to go…sleep.”

“I won’t hold you up,” Engineer smiled and nodded as Andrew rose to leave. He sensed some regret though, as if the Engineer wished he would stay longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adorable Engie. He's gonna be Andrew's new lil best friend. And yes, Spy's being nice because of the thing that happened. These Spies are really nice (compared to the other Spies).


	29. Life in Mexico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is a little different down here. And so are a few other things.

December 23, 2001

Andrew worked his way into the mess hall to find the place fully decorated in red and green apparel. His teammates were all dressed up too, dabbing green wherever they could on their red attire. They even had a wreath of sorts that they made to put over Andrew’s shoulders.

He wanted to shove it off, but he felt bad doing so, so he left it where it was. While they were joyously celebrating the holiday, he meandered out into the heat of the desert. They would start work soon, but everybody else was merry and happy, like it was a weekend.

What nonsense, he thought, as he lit up a cigar. He made his way out to a broken down old truck with the windshield busted out and the wheels missing. He threw open the door and sat himself on the driver seat. It was a nice place to sit and be alone.

“Not enjoying the Christmas celebrations?” a French accent took him off guard. He had become unused to a French accent, so when he turned his head to see the BLU, he felt a bit of despair. It was not his Spy. “No need to look so glum,” he stated, with a look of concern.

“I don’t want to celebrate,” Andrew harrumphed.

“Are you a grouch now?” the Spy chuckled.

“Work starts in little over an hour, snake,” Andrew growled. The Spy looked a little taken aback by his words, or maybe the tone he was using. “And when I’m out there, you’ll see me with my rockets! If I see you, I’m gonna crush your spine! Cause RED is going to win today!”

The Spy looked at him with utter surprise. He looked rather stunned by Andrew’s words, or perhaps it was the temperament behind it. He relaxed his face into a calm smile, removing all reproach and surprise.

“I will see you then, mon ami,” the Spy turned to head back to BLU base.

“I am not your _mon ami_!” Andrew called after him, but the Spy was already putting up an invis cloak.

 

December 25, 2001

He was surprised to find out that they had the day off. This was not the weekend though. He was not sure what day of the week it was, he had stopped keeping track, but it was certainly not the weekend. Still, he was coaxed into the recreational room, where everybody had gathered with boxes all wrapped in red and green. Andrew could not help but stare at the boxes, aghast at the foreign things.

He had not seen a Christmas present outside of shop displays since he was a young lad. It had been since his last Christmas with his family, before he decided that he was unwelcome in his home. Before he became homeless, before he was nomadic, before he lived in a rundown apartment, and before he worked for Mann Co. It felt rather new, after so many years.

“Here, Soldier,” the Scout interrupted his thoughts, handing him a green box, “It’s for you.”

Andrew took the box, but he just held it. He stared at it for a long time, as if unsure of what to do with it. He was not sure what to think of this. This was not what they usually did for Christmas or Smissmas. Win or lose the match, the team usually fought and then they went for drinks with the Demoman. That was the best part of the day was the drinking.

This was something his teammates needed. They needed to see this. The decorations in this base, with reds and greens and floral designs. They needed to see the presents, and accept some gifts of their own – they needed to feel that kind of love and care. They needed to hear the way Engineer was humming a small Christmas tune, matching up to the buzz of the radio that could barely get the radio waves to work.

It was not fair. Andrew was all the way down here in Mexico feeling the love of a Christmas celebration and they would never know it. They would not get this. They would spend another Christmas wondering what it was like to be domestic again. They would spend their Christmas forgetting their sorrows in tall glasses and bottles of drink, instead of singing to that impromptu song that the Demo just started singing.

“You uh…gonna open it?” Scout interrupted his thoughts again.

He paused, as he held it in one hand and touched the red bow with the other. It was wrapped so pretty and tightly. It looked like a professional at Macy’s put it together. It was perfect.

“You ever had a present before?” Scout asked.

“Son, I ain’t celebrated Christmas since the forties,” he told the Scout.

Scout’s eyebrows rose and his jaw dropped. He stared at Soldier like that for a long while. He started to think the boy had stopped thinking about anything.

“What’s going on?” Engineer toddled over to greet them.

“Scout is giving me a present,” Andrew stated, looking back at the wrapped box.

“Well, go ahead and open it,” the cowboy smiled.

Andrew hesitated, glancing over at the Scout, “You alright, son.”

“You were around in the forties?” the youth asked, aghast at the notion.

“Hey now,” the Engineer cut in, “Be fair!”

“Fair what? How old are you Soldier? No wait, when were you born?” the Scout asked, with a hurried voice.

“I…erm…” Andrew stammered.

“Leave him alone, amico,” the Spy slinked over to interrupt, “Let him open the present, before you hammer him with questions.”

“Right,” Scout nodded, “Open your present!”

Andrew hesitated again, before he finally removed the bow. It turned out to not be attached to the ribbon, which took some work removing. He ended up accepting a box cutter from the Engineer just to get the ribbon out of the way. When he finally worked everything off, he opened the cardboard box to find a back brace nicely folded inside.

He gave the Scout a questioning look, and the boy shrugged, “Engie noticed you had back problems and wear a brace. So I figured, maybe you need a spare?”

The Engineer blushed, and handed Andrew a box, “Here, open mine.”

“You should open your own presents,” Andrew insisted, handing the box back to him.

“No no,” the Engineer’s face became redder, “It’s from me to you.”

“Oh,” Andrew accepted the box and quickly opened it. It was less complicated than Scout’s.

“What’d you get him?” Scout asked.

“Just wait,” the Engineer stated, with a smile.

Andrew opened it to find a cap. It was a commander’s cap. He had not seen one like this since the war, and it was a sight to behold. What a beautiful thing.

“Hah! I suppose we had the same idea,” the Spy chuckled, giving the Engineer a wink.

Engineer blushed and shied away, but the Spy stepped forward with another box. Andrew had to add the Engineer’s present to a pile he was making with the Scout’s present. He opened the box, which turned out to not be wrapped but rather dyed to look like it was wrapped, to find another hat. This one was not a commander’s hat but rather a top hat.

Spy laughed, “For when you want to feel fancy!” He slapped Andrew’s back as he broke out in laughter.

“That reminds me,” Engineer handed Spy a box, “Here’s yours.”

Spy wiped away a fake tear and accepted the box with gratitude. He opened it up to find a cap, which he placed right onto his head on top of his fedora. It looked ridiculous.

“Now, let’s party!” Spy laughed, and everybody raised their glasses and cheered.

They started dancing around, then they started dancing in a line. It was a funny conga type of dance, while an upbeat song played over some speakers. Everybody joined in, even the Heavy and the Engineer.

 

*********************************************************************

 

January 2002

Sniper looked over at Spy and sighed. Nothing had changed so far. Spy was still absolutely miserable. He would smoke up a storm at every chance he got.

He followed Melisa’s advice though and tried to be there for his friend. Through everything, he wanted to just be there and be patient with his pal. He was not sure how he could be going through such a depression, but perhaps Sniper just had not lost the kind of friend Spy had had in Soldier.

He would be lying if he said he did not feel jealous of the Soldier. The man had to be Spy’s best friend if they were this close. And to think that he could make Spy lose his cool this much.

Of course, Spy put on his best act in front of everyone else. Even the Demoman was convinced that Spy was okay. Nobody knew or saw what Sniper saw.

Maybe it was Sniper being there for him that made it okay. At the end of most days, Spy would eventually come to the camper to spend time with him. He was always invited, but he only now started coming out to the camper. It was a dirty dingy place, and the night air was colder than the Spy liked. So, it was new to have Spy around his space, but he accepted it as something Spy needed during his recovery.

 

*********************************************************************

 

October 2002

Every month passing by was miserable. Spy was only reminded of his misery this month because of the Merasmus visit. They were not used to a wizard coming around, but the last time he had been at their base was back in the colder mountains, about twenty something years ago.

The BLU team had won most matches that month, and that was thanks to the Demoman, and to Soldier. Demoman was smart about magic and things, and so he was able to advise the team. But it was Soldier who did the brunt of the work against Merasmus. The Soldier reminded Merasmus of somebody, some other Soldier, and so he always got frustrated. He would become so agitated that Soldier could get right up on him and beat him to a pulp.

Spy remembered that. He wondered if Soldier remembered that month. But Soldier was not here. No, they had a new Soldier, a guy who was taking Andrew’s glory. He had all the spunk of a Soldier and still reminded Merasmus of some other Soldier, but it was not the same to Spy.

 

*********************************************************************

 

July 4, 2003

Independence Day was never the same in Mexico. It was easy enough to set off some fireworks and set up everything. It was even easy to avoid a fire. But it was extremely difficult to get most of the holiday cheer there.

This was not America. This was Mexico, Andrew understood that. Still, he really liked his country’s holiday.

Scout would join him, because Scout liked setting off fireworks. The others would join to watch and have drinks. Engineer was the only other mercenary who seemed to have a solemn respect for the holiday.

 

July 4, 2004

This year, Andrew decided to change where he would set up the fireworks. It would be far from base so nobody would be bothered. It turned out though that the fireworks still attracted a crowd. He was not expecting the crowd that came though.

Engineer had driven him out here in his truck. Scout, Heavy and Demo came out to see the fireworks he would be setting off. But the crowd was the entirety of the BLU team. They all came out to find out what was going on.

“What is all of this?” the BLU Scout asked, warily.

“Looks like a fire hazard,” the BLU Demo noted.

“We are setting off fireworks for the American Independence Day celebration,” Andrew announced.

“Oh…it’s an American holiday today?” the BLU Heavy asked.

“I forgot about fourth of July,” the BLU Pyro noted. He had a thick southern drawl.

“We’re in Mexico, why would you celebrate that?” the BLU Demo asked.

“It is the oldest American tradition!” Soldier announced.

“I thought that was eating turkey,” RED Scout said, with a bit of attitude on his tongue.

“Shut up, son,” Soldier said dismissively, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a genius!” the BLU Soldier approached him. Andrew tensed, unsure of what the man was going to do. He always came off as the most aggressive on BLU team. “I haven’t celebrated our Independence Day in years! I would be honored, if I might join you!” he saluted for emphasis.

Andrew’s back stiffened, but this time it was to erect his torso so that he could give the man a proper salute. The two finished their salutes and then proceeded to the fireworks. The others were relatively quiet, as they joined in helping with the fireworks. He was pleasantly surprised that they were not only willing to help out, but eager to be a part of the celebrating.

 

The celebrating went on long into the night. It was the best fourth of July celebration Andrew ever remembered. No barbeque or party had ever been so great. It was not just the drinking together and having fun. Everybody held this vibe, like they were really glad for America’s Independence.

At one point during the night, the BLU Engineer brought the BLU Medic over to talk to him. He was shocked, finding that the Medic was the shiest mercenary ever, and that he could actually speak. He was German like the RED Medic, after all.

“I uh…” the BLU Medic hesitated, shooting the BLU Engineer frightened glances. He looked so scared just to talk to Andrew, that he wanted to say something to encourage him. “I would…like to thank y-you, for having us,” the Medic did manage to say.

“You’re welcome!” Andrew said with a smile.

“I really mean it,” the man insisted.

“I love my country and I love celebrating it!” Andrew grinned.

“I wish I could celebrate it more often,” the Medic told him.

“You do?” Andrew was confused by that.

The BLU Medic hesitated, shifting his feet nervously. He shot the BLU Engineer sideways glances, but the man merely motioned to him in encouragement. The silent pep talk seemed to do the trick though.

“I may not be from America, but America took me in when the Holocaust would have taken my life,” he explained.

Andrew was quiet for a while, letting that sink in. Holocaust was a word he rarely spoke. He did not like to use that word, as it reminded him of more frightening things. It was more terrifying to think about millions of innocents being herded to their deaths like cattle than to think of being in the cold trenches taking heavy fire from the enemy. It brought back so many memories that he wanted to cry.

“I love America,” the Medic was still talking, while memories played through Andrew’s mind, “I loved being there. I felt proud to be a part of it.”

Andrew shook the memories from his head. He needed to focus on the conversation in front of him. After all, the Medic seemed to be going through a lot to get this kind of courage.

“How come you are in Mexico?” Andrew asked.

The BLU Medic shared a look with the BLU Engineer. He turned his gaze to his feet, “My visa expired, and they still did not want to give me a citizenship. Nobody wanted me there anymore. I lost legitimate work. So I started with Mann Co, and they eventually sent me down here.” He finished the sentence with a resigned shrug.

Andrew frowned, “I am sorry to hear that. I am sure America wanted you. But, people did not know that she wanted you! You would make the great country of America proud, son!”

The BLU Medic raised his eyes and smiled at him, “You’re much nicer than you seem. And leagues nicer than the previous RED Soldier.”

The BLU Soldier’s voice caught their attention. He was loudly yelling at the BLU Scout, who tried to match him par for volume. The two started getting into an argument about a rainbow colored firework.

“I do not talk around Soldiers,” the Medic suddenly admitted.

That brought Andrew’s attention back. He stared at the man, feeling stunned. Was that why he never heard him speak? Was that why he never knew the man’s voice?

“I am Jewish German,” the BLU Medic explained.

Andrew took a sharp intake of breath as he realized why the Medic fled to America. He remembered many Jewish Germans who he had promised would lead better lives in America. Seeing one here made him feel a touch of despair. America had let him down; America had let them down.

“Our Soldier is more Jewish than most men of my family,” the Medic gestured towards the other Soldier, “And the previous RED Soldier? He was in the Second Great War. Put them together, and hearing a German’s voice made them see red.”

Everything clicked in Andrew’s head. It made more sense than anything had in the past. Although, he wished he could give the previous RED Soldier an ass kicking for being so sore towards a man who was the victim of his country’s war.

“I am sorry to hear about all of this,” Andrew said, with a solemn voice.

“Thank you, Soldier,” the Medic said, “But this is really about America. Let’s celebrate it.”

“You’re right!” Andrew raised his mouth into a smile. He took the man by the shoulder and led him over to the fireworks to sort things out.

 

*********************************************************************

 

September 2004

Spy looked over the recreational room. How many years had it been? Still, no sign of Andrew had come up. He had used every contact he knew, but most of them would not even reply to him. Now he was stuck here, watching this new guy in Andrew’s place.

Over thirty years working with a man, one would think that the team would miss his presence. But with this new man, it was as if they did not know he was gone. This new Soldier was just as boisterous as Andrew, but rather than being shyly cute, pleasantly humble, quietly present, and calmly happy, he was always excited and always bullheaded. He was stubborn and refused to see reason at every turn. He would do the same thing a hundred times, no matter if he died every time or not.

If he was honest with himself, Spy just wanted to see Andrew again. He wanted to know why he really left. He wanted to know if there was still something between them.

Who knew though. If it had been so long, could they still be together? He was not so sure. Andrew could have changed. He could have returned to bitterness and anger like he had acted last time. Or perhaps Spy had changed, becoming soft and mopey, and then Andrew would not want him.

He was grateful to Sniper, who was patient with him. Every day, the man kept an extra drink around, just to offer it to Spy. As of late, Spy had stopped drinking, so he refused the drink, but Sniper kept offering. It felt nice, knowing that Sniper was thinking about him.

Spy did not want him anymore. He did not have those kinds of feelings for Sniper anymore. He was an attractive man, but nothing more. There was no spark, just a pleasant friendship that held him afloat, and that was all he needed.

This evening, Sniper approached him, “Can we talk?”

“I have nothing better to do,” Spy admitted.

Sniper jerked his head and led the way from the recreational room. They made their way out towards the camper, but they took a sharp turn. From there, they made their way to a copse of trees, where he went to a camera control box to turn it off. He immediately turned from the box, tucking his hands into his pockets, to face Spy.

“What is this about?” Spy eyed the shut down camera. He did not know that Sniper knew how to work such contraptions.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Sniper said, scratching at the stubble on his jaw.

“Okay?” Spy gave him an unamused look.

“You remember the new contracts we were offered? About…three years ago?” Sniper asked.

“Yes, I do remember,” Spy nodded.

Sniper hesitated, letting it sink in, “Why’d you refuse the contract?”

Spy flinched. How did Sniper know about that? How could he know that? That was personal employee information that would not– could not be shared with others.

“That is none of your business,” he spoke with a snide tone.

“Come off it, mate,” the Sniper gestured brusquely in dismissal, “You refused the changes to the contract for a raise. And for what? To keep asking me about what’s out there in the city?”

“I wouldn’t have to ask if you just told me, Glenn,” the Spy said. He turned his shoulder to the Sniper as he lit a cigarette.

“If you go down this path, there’s no turning back,” the Sniper growled.

“Good, because I’m not turning around,” the Spy turned and headed back to the base, leaving the Sniper behind. Whatever was being hidden would soon be his to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop writing at 2am.


	30. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew learns a bit about the RED Medic.  
> Spy learns what is really going on. He takes it pretty well.

November 2004

Work was tough as it always was. Andrew did not remember work being any different than that. Perhaps it was just that the days were hotter. It was hot as hell, and he had spent more than three decades in the chilly wintry bases.

It was not all bad though. Sometimes Andrew got surprises. The BLUs were as nice to him as the REDs. Off work hours, they practically expected him to be around to hang out. There was the regular teammates, and then some special teammates, and then some special BLUs.

Just like the RED Engineer, Andrew hit it off with the BLU Medic. He seemed to come right out of his shell, talking with Andrew and skipping over to his base to have drinks. RED Engineer did not seem to like having him around as much, but the Medic was just thrilled to be in the company of friends.

But back on the topic of surprises, because the BLU Medic would surprise him. He beckoned him and his team out to the place where they celebrated fourth of July. There, out in the heat of the desert, the BLU team had set up tables with food. It was not quite like one would expect it to be, but Andrew grinned from ear to ear when Medic explained that it was meant to be a Thanksgiving feast.

Oh and what a feast it was. It was never about the food though. Every man joined in a bunch of merriment as they chatted over food and put kindling on their friendship. It was the most beautiful thing Andrew had ever seen since joining Mann Co.

But, there was one man he noticed was not around. The RED Medic had remained at the base. Andrew thought back to other times the team went for outings and did parties. The RED Medic was never to be seen at any of those places either. It was as if he was unwelcome.

That could not be right. That just did not sit well with Andrew. So he decided he was going to change that. He snuck off with the RED Engineer’s keys and drove off to the base. He would be back anyways.

The base was empty and quiet. It seemed completely deserted. Every footstep echoed through the halls and against the walls. It was a little spooky.

He knew where the Medic would be. He was a man of medical science, pouring himself over his scientific research. So, Andrew headed down to the infirmary, where the Medic was indeed working.

“If you are not injured or dying, leave my work space,” the man growled with disdain without even looking up from what he was writing.

“We are having Thanksgiving,” Andrew said, cheerfully.

“That’s very nice,” the Medic waved a hand at him dismissively, “Kindly shut the door on your way out.”

“You are invited,” Andrew stated firmly.

“I don’t care,” he motioned for him to leave, “Please out.”

“You are welcome to come,” Andrew pressed.

“I do not want to!” the Medic barked, finally raising his eyes. He had such a frightening gaze that Andrew shied away.

When Andrew left the infirmary he felt rather sick. His entire body was shaking, as if he had been overcome with an illness. What kind of demon could possess a man to have such a frightful gaze?

He did not speak with the Medic often. He always just seemed to be a man with odd quirks and a love for science. But, perhaps he just did not find comfort in peoples’ company like Andrew did. Or perhaps it was specifically _their_ company that he did not like. He frowned at that thought.

He headed back to the truck and drove back out to the feast. There, he earned some half assed attempts at scorning him from the RED Engineer and the BLU Medic. Neither really had the heart in their voices to actually give him a stern scorning that would change a kid’s mind. That made him a little sad, because he missed being harshly scorned by men who cared when he was reckless or a screw up.

“Where did you go, anyways?” the BLU Medic asked.

“I went to ask RED Medic to come,” Andrew stated.

The blood left their faces. Both of them went pale. Andrew noticed some others had heard him and had turned their heads to look at him with disbelieving expressions. A relative silence came over the feast, as eventually everybody was looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

Everybody was quiet for a while, until the RED Spy stepped forward, “Nobody invites the Medic to do anything or go anywhere, amico. Nobody does. Nobody will. And that’s what you should probably do.”

“Why not?” Andrew looked around at them. A lot of them had looks that bespoke shame. Shame on them all for ousting the Medic. “Why not invite the Medic? No wonder he was so angry!” he exclaimed.

“He’s always angry,” the BLU Engineer piped up.

“Even off duty- off work, he’s mean and angry,” the RED Demo agreed, raising his drink.

“If you were nice to him, maybe he would be nice back,” Andrew offered.

“Look, Soldier,” the RED Engineer lowered his voice and put a hand on his arm, “We’ve tried…building friendships with the Medic. Nobody wants to be around him. And in the end, it turns out that he doesn’t want to be around the rest of us.”

“Nobody wants to oust the Medic, Soldier,” the BLU Engineer added.

“I do!” the RED Demoman raised his drink again.

The BLU Engineer shot him a glare, before turning his attention back to Andrew, “But I’ll tell you this. If you knew the way it’s been, then you would understand that this is how it is going to be. Medic don’t change. Men just don’t change like that. And he will stay in his space, as long as we stay in ours.”

Andrew did not understand this. He did not understand it and he did not like it. He did not want to have even just one teammate who was not here and enjoying this partying.

He looked all around and saw faces of all new friends. It was unlike anything he had experienced back in the woods or up in the colder mountains. RED team back there was never like this. BLU team back there was never like this. They were never this friendly and chipper.

It seemed unbelievable that they would ever be harsh or scornful to anybody. So seeing that they would willingly let the RED Medic be ousted seemed crazy to him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy slipped past the Sniper while he was fetching coffee. He did not have much time, but he would not need too long. If everything went according to his planning, and according to his knowledge, then he would find Sniper’s notes about Melisa’s whereabouts hidden in a small box underneath his couch cushions.

After a quick picking of the lock, he crept inside and searched through the couch cushions for the little box. It was there, and that only took a minute to crack. Sniper was so predictable, no matter how random he tried to be. There, inside of the box, was a little black notebook with lined paper filled with Sniper’s scribbles.

He found Melisa’s name and quickly jotted down all of the information. There was a surprising amount of information here too. Her last name, her birthday, her address, her phone number? There was so much to take in that he had to write it all down to have it at hand.

He tucked away the paper he wrote on and quickly put everything back the way it was. He would have to hurry, in order to escape before Sniper’s return. The last thing he wanted was an angry Sniper.

 

When the workday ended on Friday, Spy got his notes out of his locker and headed for his car. He had finished his wrap up work earlier than Sniper, something he had planned out. The man required extra time to clean his guns. It did help that Spy had arranged for Scout to have a messy problem with his shotgun and for the Heavy to be too distracted taking care of his own gun to help the young man. One would think that after decades of working with a gun, the boy would have figured out how to take better care of it.

It worked for Spy, who had set aside his ambassador to be cleaned later. He had to get there ahead of Sniper. He had to speak to her when she was alone. If nothing else, she would be his leverage.

It was a low blow, but it was all Spy could think of to do. The guilt ate at him as he hit the ramp to the highway, thinking about this betrayal of their friendship. He hated himself for it.

He charged forward on the highway though, rushing around the other cars. He had nothing really holding him back, he told himself. He could manipulate the Sniper back into a friendship again. This was all just a part of the dance. He had been a Spy from a very young age, so doing this was just a part of life.

After giving himself a final brief pep talk, he parked his car out in front of Melisa’s house. It was a duplex, a narrow place squished between two others. It looked nothing like the kind of place an outdoorsman – or an outdoorswoman for that matter – would live. Perhaps it was cheap living though.

He made his way up the stairs hesitantly, trying to decide how he would get in. He could choose breaking and entering like a common thief. That would be easy, but probably more frightening for the woman. If he frightened her, she might fight back, and given what Sniper had told him about her, she was a fighter by heart.

He chose to utilize a more charming tactic. He rang the doorbell and waited, hoping she was at home. If not, common criminal tactics would be his plan B.

“Hello?” the door opened slightly as she peered out. She stared at him, with a dumbfounded gaze, while her face went white.

That was not the expression he was expecting, so he tried to be as charming as possible, “Good evening, Melisa. I don’t suppose you remember me? Glenn’s friend?”

She shook herself visibly, “Oh yes. The Spy. I remember you, of course.” She was nervous, and very hesitant. He had given her no reason to be, unless Glenn had warned her of him.

“May I come in?” he asked. It would tell him whether she had been warned or not.

She hesitated, a tell that said she was extremely wary of him. It was strange, given how confident she had been of her safety at dinner. Perhaps that was just because Glenn was around.

“But, of course,” she suddenly said, swinging the door wide open.

He smiled as he was admitted to a dimly lit hallway. Nearby a lamp covered by a glass shade gave off light, but it did very little to brighten the home. His eye carefully studied the coat rack and the table to the right of the door. There were several coats and a scarf already hanging there. Shoes sat at the foot of the coats, waiting for their owner’s return, too big for a woman like Melisa. The table had a small bowl with a variety of keys in it.

This home looked like another man lived here. All of the pieces fit together and he rounded on Melisa. He gave her a stern and angry look as his chest burned with rage.

“Who lives here?” he demanded.

“I do!” she squeaked, her eyes glancing a couple of times to the side, “Well…and so does Glenn.”

“Whose shoes?” he pointed them out.

“Glenns,” she motioned to them, “They’re his weekend shoes.”

“The jackets?” he pointed to the rack. Two of those jackets were way too big for Melisa.

“Those are Glenn’s too! There’s nobody else here!” she exclaimed.

“This place seems rather lived in for Glenn to be the only man in this home,” he said sternly.

“I…” she glanced at the stairs, “Glenn is the only other person that lives here. He comes here on weekends. Is that a problem with you?”

“Only when I see signs that his girlfriend may be cheating,” he stated.

“Cheating!” she rounded on him angrily. Her round cheeks started to grow red and her eyes flared with anger. “I am _not_ a cheater! I have never cheated! I never would! Not on Glenn! Not on anybody! And you sir, are overstaying your welcome to be throwing shade like that!”

Spy threw his hands up, giving up the argument, “That is not why I came here.”

“Then what did you come here for?” she asked, angrily.

“If you would please calm down,” he spoke with a soft tone.

She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. She looked him up and down before she finally spoke, “What did you come here for?”

“I came here to ask you some questions,” he explained, “I have to know what’s in the city. I have no know what Glenn is hiding.” He paused, unsure of how she might take this. He had to keep her talking, to keep her calm through all of this until Glenn arrived at the house.

If nothing else, she would be a calm captive. If he did not have to use force to keep her under control, it would be the best situation. He did not want to hurt Melisa, and he certainly did not want to hurt Glenn.

“The city,” she stated, licking her lips, “You want to know what’s in the city?”

He nodded slowly, “I am not going to remain ignorant to the facts. I’m a Spy, I figure these things out. But if you were to tell me…things would be a lot easier.”

She nodded in response, “Let’s go talk in the kitchen. I kind of want some coffee.”

She led him further into the house, around a corner and into the kitchen. It doubled as a dining room, with a small setup with three chairs. The table itself had its fourth side pushed up against the wall beneath the window, so that light could shine in. Of course, from the angle the window was sitting, no light was coming in at the moment.

“I should tell you that I am aware of everything that’s got to do with Mann Co,” she told him, motioning for him to sit down at the kitchen table. She did not offer him anything, or ask him if he wanted anything, she just made him coffee. In fact, she made him coffee the way he liked it, and set it down in front of him, before sitting across from him. “I know about what you do in your line of work. I know you don’t work for the government or anything like that. I know you kill people. I know about respawn. I even know that this conversation is really some form of manipulation.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. He was impressed her length of knowledge, if she was in fact that knowledgeable. She likely learned a lot of these things from Glenn and talking to him about work, which he was not supposed to be doing. Of course, Glenn could not have told her that Spy would be here to manipulate her. He might warn her that he was dangerous and not to be trusted, but Glenn would not have thought of things this way. She might have made a good Spy if given proper training.

“Oh yea,” she said, noting his expression, “I know a lot about you. And not just what you’ve talked about with Glenn.”

He felt a little betrayed to hear that Glenn talked about their discussions. Not that he told the man much worth sharing, but conversations with a best friend were personal.

“And if you’re here…and you’re asking about the city…then you’re thinking to either get me to talk or use me as leverage against Glenn. Is that correct?” she stopped talking to drink her coffee.

Spy hesitated, as he looked at the mug in front of him. Two sugars and a splash of cream. He had watched her make it just the way he made it for himself every morning, better than how he asked Glenn to make it when they hung out at the camper in the morning.

“If I do not have to use force, this will be much simpler,” he stated.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she let it out. She seemed to relax, the color returning to her face and her confidence renewing. She had decided that she was going to be okay and that probably meant she was going to cooperate with him.

“Look,” she spoke slowly, “I don’t work for Mann Co.” She paused, looking at him to see if it sunk in. “I am not affiliated with Mann Co. I have no association to its business in any way other than dating Glenn.” She paused for a much longer time this time. Her gaze turned towards the table, “I love Glenn.”

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing back her bangs. She looked like she might cry. The emotions in her eyes were starting to get to her.

“I have no contract with Mann Co,” her gaze returned to his, “That’s why, when I say something, you can know for a fact that I am not paid to say anything, nor paid to keep quiet about anything relating to Mann Co.”

“I understand that,” he stated, nodding for her to go on.

She took a sip of her coffee before she continued, “Glenn works for Mann Co, so he cannot say things about it. But I can. Just know that it comes from me and not from him. You got that, right?”

“Where is this going, Melisa?” he pressed impatiently. He did not want her stalling for time for the Sniper to arrive.

“You…I uh…” she grew hesitant now, unsure of herself, “I have known you…about you…for a long time. Before I met Glenn, I knew about you and your team.”

Spy felt alarmed at hearing of this. Did Glenn know? Was she a Spy?

“Glenn knows…and that was…part of the problem when we met,” she explained, “I was just a fangirl down by the lake. I was young, so I didn’t even get it. I thought he was just an actor, and so I was all excited to meet him. Even asked him for an autograph.” She giggled at that.

“An autograph?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll understand,” she insisted, as she went on, “We hit it off, you see. We started meeting down there, and he finally broke loose. He had pent up frustration and wanted to vent about work. I was so confused until he finally showed me. I came down to the base in his camper. He told me to stay inside and…and I watched from a distance as you guys fought. It wasn’t a good view, but it was the closest I had ever been. And I never wanted to go back.”

Spy was not surprised. Of course Sniper would want his girlfriend to know about his work. He was the type of man who would want an open and honest relationship. He was just lucky to find the type of girl he needed for that.

“But, what I came to realize was that he was certain that it was a war,” she told him.

Spy raised an eyebrow at that, “Is it not?”

“No,” she assured him, “You’re not fighting a war.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, “Because from what I have seen, I am a BLU. And every day I fight REDs.”

She sighed and rose from the table, “Wait here.”

When she returned, she brought a small black monitor with her. She adjusted her seat to position it at an angle while she placed the monitor up on the window sill. She hooked it up to a little black box and then turned to him.

“I’m…I’m about to show you something, that I think might confuse you,” she explained.

“I’m not so susceptible to confusion as Glenn,” he assured her.

“I mean, it’s not…something you would expect,” she explained, “But…I…I think things will start to make sense when you realize that people can and do see this. They watch this.”

“Well? Go on,” he pressed.

She turned it on and pressed a play button. He sat there patiently, watching as the title card played, introducing a show called “Team Fortress Sawmill.” He watched with sullen understanding, with a simmering anger beneath the surface, as footage from the many cameras from the BLU and RED bases started to play. Everybody in the camera’s view was there. Everybody who could be caught was there.

He never watched television as a young man. It was new and he did not bother with it. But seeing it now, colorful and bright before him, he started to realize the interest of it. Explosions were bright and pretty, and from the safety of this house it was fun to look at. The men running around and fighting were loud and boisterous but that did not bother him so much from this seat. In fact, every once in a while, it almost seemed like they were making jokes and having a great time.

It almost looked fake. It almost looked simulated. It almost looked like they were pretending to beat each other up.

He let the video play to the end. He did not move the entire time. He did not glance at Melisa. He did not touch his coffee – he just let it get cold. He did not do anything until the credits finally rolled.

Melisa took a breath as she reached over to stop the video. He turned his eyes to her, studying her nervous composure. She settled back in her seat nervously, trying to stop the fidgeting of her fingers.

“Well?” her breathy voice finally broke the silence.

“Well?” he responded, with a nonchalant shrug.

In his head he was livid. He could not be angry with her, she had nothing to do with this. In fact, he had to thank her. She just showed him what he needed to know. She just revealed to him the damage that Mann Co was trying to hide. She had uncovered years of secrets for him.

“I…you…um…do you have any questions?” she asked.

“This video…” he hesitated to ask, “it is one of…?”

“Many,” she nodded, “It’s a show. It’s one of many shows. Mann Co became Mann Co Productions in the early eighties, when the war started to become something unnecessary.”

He took a breath, “And…it’s just been a show this whole time?”

“It’s been…it’s been a show for a long time,” she nodded.

He sighed and leaned back in the chair. He stared at the black screen for a while. The vivid colors were still there, behind his mind’s eye. He could practically see the moving pictures before him with a blink of an eye.

“And you came across this?” he asked, turning his gaze to her.

“When I was younger,” she explained, “I thought you were all actors. I thought Glenn was an actor. I was a fan. And when I discovered the reality, I revealed its nature to him.” She bit her lip. “It was so hard for him. He went through so many emotions…anger, sadness, depression, betrayal. I was there for him through it all, and I even brought him back to my place. He just…didn’t want to be there for a while. Then Miss Pauling came knocking on my door, demanding to see him, and he just about broke her neck.”

Spy laughed at that. He tried to imagine the Sniper trying to strangle the little Miss Pauling. She probably would have a hard time escaping him in such a situation. It was still hard to imagine Glenn being violent towards a woman.

“After we calmed him down, Miss Pauling assessed what had happened, and gave Glenn his options,” she explained.

“And what were they?” he asked.

“He could run away,” she explained, “But he would be a liability, and he knows what happens to liabilities.”

Spy nodded to that, then motioned for her to go on. A man on the run for life, or dead.

“She offered him a new contract, one that would allow him to keep being with me and coming off the base,” she explained, “But he would have to be silent. He could never tell a soul about the show. He could never talk to any other mercenary about what was going on and why. She never told us why they did it…why they started the show, but she did make it clear that she wanted to help. She even forced an alibi, so that nobody at Mann Co knew I existed.”

“Unlikely,” he noted.

“What’s unlikely?” she asked, with surprise.

“It is unlikely that nobody else at Mann Co knows about you. At this time, it is all too likely that you are being watched,” Spy stated.

She sighed with a shrugged, “The pain of loving a Sniper, I guess.”

“So the fangirl falls in love with her favorite actor…and character, of a show,” he folded his arms over his chest as he pondered that thought.

“Well…he wasn’t my favorite…back then,” she giggled, “Sure he’s my favorite now. He’s my Sniper.”

He felt a bit of heat rise to his cheeks, but pushed past the blushing, “Who was your favorite?”

She gave him an awkward little smile, “You were.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and found her cheeks red. She blushed harder the longer he looked at her.

“I probably will never know your name, but I admired you. The BLU Spy. Oh, how it irked Glenn when I asked him if I could get your autograph. I mean, nowadays he looks back on that question and laughs, because then he’d actually get your name,” she started laughing nervously.

He chuckled softly, turning his eyes back to the black screen. An admirer? How very quaint. Still, it seemed rather nice. She watched them fight, even her boyfriend. And she watched him while he was spying on the REDs. That part was more than a little creepy to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Spy would be best suited (mentally) to handle the reveal of something soul crushing about their life, like this.


	31. Best Friends are by Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy cannot sleep, and neither can Sniper. They have a chat about how they are feeling about all of this and Spy has a breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Tears

Imagine for a moment if your entire life was something unique to you, and you only just found out in your late age that everything was a lie. The war was a lie. Fighting against RED was a lie. Hiding your identity from the world was a lie.

Spy was good at lying, but it was not like this. After a while, it all came crushing down on him and he could not stand up. Melisa guided him to her couch in the living room and brought him a cold compress. He laid there staring at her ceiling, wondering what he would do next.

Mann Co was not the entity it used to be, not the entity who had hired him. It was not about guns and property owned by the Mann brothers. It was Mann Co Productions now. It was all about the shows they produced and the money those shows made for them.

And when did they have them sign contracts to get permission to do that? He never signed such a contract. Unless, perhaps there was a loophole that permitted it all along, and he just never thought about it. He never thought that they would take the cameras and use them to sell their mercenaries to the world.

The front door opened and Melisa rushed to greet the newcomer. Spy did not need to be told to know who it was. He could hear his boots stomping on the front door’s mat. Then he could hear the man speak as he told his love hello and that he had missed her.

Melisa’s response was a bit panicked. She could have been calmer about explaining everything. Of course, the Sniper did not need to have much explained once he came into the living room to find the Spy on his couch. Spy did not look at him, he just stared at the ceiling, while the Sniper loomed in the corner of his vision.

“Glenn…wouldn’t you like to say something?” she broke the silence.

“How much did you tell him?” was his response.

“Everything he needed to know,” she stated.

“Great,” Sniper growled sarcastically.

He walked over to the couch and leaned over him. The handsome face framed with bushy sideburns loomed into his vision. He could not help but look at him.

“Get up,” Sniper commanded.

Spy barely moved, but he blinked. He was not ready to be up on his feet yet. He was also not ready to fight the man off. He was likely going to get kicked out though, after tracking down and meeting with Sniper’s girlfriend behind his back.

“Come on,” Sniper grabbed his arm and hoisted him up, “We’ll go in my camper.”

“Hon, take my car, it’s smaller,” Melisa tossed him a set of keys.

“I have my car,” Spy stated.

“You’re in no place to drive, mate,” Sniper said, taking Spy’s arm over his shoulders to balance him, “Besides, we’ll be back for your car.”

Sniper led him out of the house and down to a little blue Mercedes Benz. He climbed into the passenger car and buckled the seat belt before turning to the Sniper. He was not sure what to say to him, or if he could ever ask him the questions he wanted to ask. It was one thing to hear it from the woman who had watched them, it was another to speak to his friend and longtime colleague.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To the city,” Sniper answered, before the car pulled away from the sidewalk.

They were silent, as the car carried them through the city. They were already in the city, after all. But, Spy was sure that Sniper was going to show him what he needed to know about the city. What was so important about it that the RED Spy had warned him?

That part made him think. The RED Spy knew. The RED Spy had known for who knew how long. He never told a soul, though he probably ached to do so. He might have even been as mortified and humiliated as Spy was himself.

“Here,” Sniper caught his attention.

Spy looked out a window to see a big sign on the side of the road. Somehow multiple mercenaries from both teams were standing together in the picture. BLU Spy had been put in next to the RED Demo. The BLU Soldier was in next to the RED Spy. BLU Sniper was next to the RED Scout. The sign advertised the show and the fact that it was being filmed not too far from this city.

“Over there,” Sniper pointed.

He turned his head to see a large shopping center. There, he saw various pieces with mercenaries on them. There were pictures, statues, and even a whole store that seemed to be dedicated to them.

When Glenn parked, he turned to Spy without killing the engine, “Do you want to go in?”

Spy looked at him with his eyes, “Should we?”

“That’s up to you, mate,” Sniper said, “I’m with you one hundred percent. But…never went in there, myself.”

“I need to know,” Spy clambered out of the car and into the fresh crisp air. He could feel a fresh fog settling in.

“Alright,” Sniper said, as he climbed out, “Let’s go see what we can see.”

In the main area there were a lot of people. The two of them went mostly unnoticed as they looked around. There were large cardboard cut outs of several mercenaries, and some plastic statues too. A mural of the RED team was plastered along the side of one building, and a mural of the BLU team was painted against another.

Curious, Spy headed towards the building that had their faces on the windows. Inside he could already see more pictures of them, plastered on what appeared to be toys, clothes and other merchandise.

“Hey it’s a Spy!” the line set off alarms in Spy’s mind. He forced himself to be calm and relaxed when he realized that it was a child’s voice.

How it could be a child that recognized him, he had no idea. What parent in their right mind would have their children watch a bunch of grown men shoot and kill each other? He certainly would not allow it.

A small gasp came from behind and the two of them turned. A group of kids in clothes with mercenaries on the front, were waving at them. The two men exchanged a look, unsure of what to do or what to make of the children. Spy could not even be sure how old they were.

“Cool costume,” an older voice caught their attention as two teenage boys came out of the store. One of them winked and the other gave them a thumbs up.

“Are you a real Sniper?” one of the boys tugged on Glenn’s pants.

The Sniper shied away, growing uncomfortable. It did not take Spy a moment to step in to help his friend with his anxiety. He pushed the child gently away, hoping to usher him towards the other kids.

“Hey! Take your hands off my boy!” a thick armed white woman came charging at him with a whirlwind of anger behind her.

Both men were taken by surprise when a small figure jumped out to defend them, “Teach your kid some manners and he wouldn’t be touching him!”

“My kid?” the mother scoffed, “You don’t touch somebody’s kid! I’m gonna beat your ass! And then I’m gonna beat his ass!”

Melisa raised herself up to match the woman’s aggression, “You should be watching your kids a little closer!”

“Oh yea? Imma call the cops on you. Tell ‘em you been touching my boy! You come near him again, I’ll beat your skinny little ass!”

Before Spy knew what was happening, Sniper joined his girlfriend, hoping to defend her. He was no good in an argument, but the man would be as bullheaded as any to protect his girl. Spy rolled his eyes and joined him to protect Melisa.

“Oh, you wanna come at me, bitch?” the woman scoffed directly at Spy, “You! Yea you! Come at me, bitch! I’ll fucking beat your ass!”

“Excuse me, there are children present,” a woman with a staff shirt from inside of the store approached the woman, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“My son is here. I’m here with my son,” the woman said, angrily, “And I’ll be damned if I let this mother fucker get off on pushing my boy!”

“Excuse me, but we have a policy on aggressive behavior,” the staff woman argued. She tried to guide the mother away.

“Hell no! I’m about to beat this mother fucker’s ass! This is a free country!” the mother announced.

The staff woman argued, “This is store property. You are going to have to leave or you will be escorted by a police officer.”

“Come at me bitch! What? You don’t got the balls!” the woman was throwing her arms around wildly as she shouted at the top of her lungs.

“What’s wrong here,” a man dressed in dark security uniform intervened.

Melisa tugged on Spy’s and Sniper’s sleeves, “Let’s go.” She led them away from the store, heading around the scene to the parking area. It was easy to find Sniper’s camper parked farthest from the shopping center.

“That was…” Spy’s mind began spinning.

Their whole lives were a television show for people. They let children watch it. They made shirts and other merchandise for it. People were aggressive because of it. It was absurd, and it made him feel nauseated and sick.

“Spy, you okay?” Sniper rubbed his back as he doubled over. He wiped his mouth and took a deep shaky breath. “I’m fine…I’m fine,” he breathed heavily, trying to take in all of the air, “I need a minute.”

“Let’s go back to the house,” Melisa offered.

“No,” Spy shook his head, “I need to see Miss Pauling.”

“Miss Pauling will come lookin’ for ya, mate,” Sniper assured him.

“I need to see her now,” Spy growled, as he rose to his full height.

“Look mate,” Sniper grabbed his shoulder firmly, “You’re freaked out. This is all so much to take in. There’s too much for even me to take in. And I’ve known about this for…what? Twelve years?” He looked to Melisa for confirmation before he went on. “Life isn’t what we thought it was, but we still have it all the same. Alright?”

Spy nodded slowly, letting out a breath. His shoulders sagged and exhaustion settled in. He felt more than overwhelmed. He felt like a wet rag cast aside.

“How about you stay at our place?” Melisa offered. Sniper shot her a look and she shook her head at him. “It’s…it’s better than staying at the base, right? There’s a guest room we barely use. You can stay there for the weekend, get away from everything. If you want to go back on Sunday, you can. But, maybe at least stay the night. You’re not in any condition to go back.” She shot Sniper a look this time. “Not being seen like this by your colleagues and the cameras.”

Spy looked to Sniper for approval. When his friend nodded, he let out a sigh, “Alright. I’ll stay for the night.”

 

Melisa was a splendid hostess, and she was right about the house. It was beautiful, peaceful and quiet – that was a hundred times better than the base. It was clean too, which agreed with his senses, making him feel more at peace than he had in years.

Still, he felt quite shaken. He stayed for her chicken dinner, which was marvelous. But, once settled up in the guest room, he stayed silently in there for hours. He could not fall asleep, but rather laid awake on the bed thinking. He thought about everything, and tried to make sense of everything.

A knocked disturbed him around midnight. Back at the base he would have just yelled ‘go away’ and waited for them to leave, but he did not want to be rude. Instead, he rose to sit up on the bed as the door opened. Of course Sniper would just open the door without hearing a response.

“Can’t sleep?” Sniper asked.

Spy shook his head slowly. He wondered why of all things Sniper came to talk to him.

“Me neither,” Sniper closed the door and then sat down beside him.

There was a long silence between them. The room was dark, with only the ticking of a clock to accompany their breathing. How different this was to anything Spy thought he would experience with Sniper.

“Sniper, I understand why you didn’t tell me,” he said, in an apologetic manner, “And I appreciate that you took me to see the city.”

“That was barely half of it…but yea,” Sniper sighed and leaned over his knees, “You gonna be alright?”

“I’ll…I’ll be fine,” Spy rubbed his neck.

“I would have told ya, you know,” Sniper said.

Spy’s head snapped around to give him a questioning look.

“I would have told ya, if I could,” he explained, “I mean, I wouldn’t have kept you in the dark for so long.”

“I know that,” Spy nodded.

“So…” Sniper sighed, “You uh…what are you thinking?”

Spy pursed his lips thoughtfully, “I’m thinking about what I’m going to do, and how I’m going to chew out Miss Pauling.”

“You know she’s just another pawn in the ranks, right?” Sniper said, defensively.

“I understand that,” Spy nodded, “But, I want some things to change. And I’ll full well make sure those changes happen.”

“Like what?” Sniper asked.

Spy sighed, “I need a cigarette. I’m going outside.”

Sniper followed him down the stairs and out the front door into the cold night air. Spy regretted not having a heavier coat and shivered. Sniper stepped back inside, bringing out two jackets. He tossed one to Spy and put on the other.

Spy thanked him as he pulled the jacket on, finding it to be warm and comfortable. It had Sniper’s smell on it, making it feel like the man’s arms were draped over his shoulders. He blushed at the thought and hurried to light his cigarette, lest Glenn became suspicious.

“So upstairs,” Sniper leaned against the railing of the steps, “You said you were thinking about what you were going to do. What are you going to do?”

Spy hesitated, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. The smoke rose to the air, filling the aura of street lights, car alarms and barking dogs. He had forgotten what it was like to live in the city.

“I’m going to get Andrew back,” he stated, still staring up at the smoke he breathed. The stars were barely visible behind the mask of street lights.

“Who?” Sniper inquired.

Spy sighed, because of course Glenn forgot Soldier’s name. “The Soldier,” he closed his eyes, trying to remember what the man smelled like, “The previous Soldier.”

“Oh…that guy,” Sniper hummed thoughtfully, “You know, I never got why you two were friends. Was it like…a different kind of friend?”

“You could say that,” Spy leaned against the railing across from Sniper.

“Can’t you just be friends with the new Soldier?” he asked.

“Could you just pick up where you left off with Melisa with some other person?” Spy asked.

“That’s different,” Sniper pushed off of the railing and grew defensive.

“I think it’s not,” Spy argued.

“I love her,” Sniper growled, “If anybody or anything came between me and Melisa, I’d kill ‘em!”

“I know you would,” Spy nodded.

“And…I mean, I’d be sad. I’d be alone,” Sniper leaned back against the railing again, “If it was you, I mean. You’re just about the only friend I’ve got. But, moping? I don’t think I’d do that.”

“Thinking about this the wrong way,” Spy stated, shaking his head, “Think about this from another perspective.”

“Okay,” Sniper scrunched his brow, “How?”

“Think about this as how you would feel if Mann Co took Melisa away,” Spy answered.

“I already told ya! And if you bring her up again, I swear to God! I’ll break your scrawny neck!” Sniper bristled and got very close with one step.

Spy did not flinch, as he put out the cigarette to light a new one, “Have some empathy for my situation, mon ami.”

Sniper stared at him for a long time, the two of them simply breathing. The flared nostrils and furrowed brow calmed down. His eyes widened a little, then blinked a few times. Realization started to hit him.

“You…and the Soldier…weren’t friends, were you?” Spy let his question go unanswered as the man processed this, “You were more than that.”

He continued to puff on the cigarette, letting the quiet fill Sniper’s mind. It was out there now, the truth was laid out for Glenn. And just thinking about it made Spy’s hand shake unwittingly. As if it was not bad enough, his mind went to how he felt about Andrew and losing him. The pain returned and shook his entire body.

“I…you? But you’re men. And you’re…” Sniper’s voice trailed off as he watched him. He was looking at the Spy, watching him as he tried to hold himself together. “You brought your boyfriend to dinner…” The cogs were turning in his mind, while the tears made a lump in Spy’s throat. “And they…they can’t relocate you, so they moved Andrew.”

Spy took a deep breath. He took a deep puff of the cigarette. He let it all out, and then he faced the Sniper entirely.

“They can’t what?” he asked.

“They can’t relocate you,” Sniper stated, “It’s in…it’s in my contract.”

“What’s your contract got to do with me?” Spy asked, a bit miffed by the change of subject.

“When I found out…I made some demands,” Sniper explained, “I never wanted to lose my friend. You were one of the reasons I stayed. Maybe the only reason. I could lose respawn and spend a happy life with Melisa. But…you’re the only pal I’ve had these past forty or so years. I had it written in that we would remain on the same team, at the same base.”

Spy took a deep breath, “A heartwarming thought, mon ami.”

Sniper sighed and rubbed his face, “I…you brought your boyfriend to dinner.”

Spy nodded slowly, “Yes I did. A not so subtle hint about me.”

“But you two broke up…that’s what that was all about? All the moping before? And making up? I thought you two were friends just having a tiff!” Sniper exclaimed, with disbelief, “You weren’t even together that long!”

“It doesn’t take long to form bonds,” Spy stated, “Besides, there was a Spy threatening my Soldier’s safety.”

“Huh,” Sniper fell silent, leaving the car horns and yowling cats to fill the silence. Somewhere beyond that was the howling of a dog.

“Never would have thought you the type to settle in the city,” Spy gestured to the house.

“It’s the closest Melisa and I could get without raising suspicions from Mann Co,” Sniper explained, “Besides, we’re saving up for a nice place up in the mountains.”

“Away from the base, I presume?” Spy asked.

Sniper chuckled, “You didn’t read those new contracts we signed, did you?” Spy shrugged in response. Sniper chuckled, “Added bonus of received sick time and vacation. We’re overdue for several years of vacation. I’m thinking about spending a few months at a time, just me and Mel.”

“I’ll have to look into that,” Spy noted.

Sniper nodded, “But…um…perhaps this works out in your favor after all.”

“Three years later,” Spy said, with disdain on his tongue. Sniper let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “What?” Spy shot him a questioning look.

“You…being into men? That’s so…odd,” Sniper shook his head.

“Do you have a problem with it?” Spy asked, trying to act nonchalant.

“No, no problem at all,” Sniper said, defensively, “It’s just um…guess I figured you a lady killer. The type of guy to wine and dine women from all over the world.”

“You have me confused for the RED Spy,” he shook his head.

“Seriously though, of all men, the Soldier?” Sniper asked, with disbelief.

“It was a surprise to me too,” Spy shrugged, “But, he’s an attractive man. I gave him a shot, and I liked him. He just kept pulling me in.”

Sniper started chuckling at him. He seemed to find some humor in all of this. Spy’s defenses rose quickly and his heart started to race with a feeling of panic. Here he was, feeling quite open and vulnerable, sharing his thoughts with the Sniper, and the man was laughing.

“Go on,” Sniper pressed, “Tell me how you guys…like…got together.” He had a big stupid grin on his face. “I know how you met as colleagues, but how did this start?”

Spy sighed as he went back in his mind to the Christmas Eve party. How strange that it was four years ago that he had drunkenly stumbled onto Andrew and kissed him. And nobody in that establishment had noticed the kiss, only him passing out. Sniper did not even remember being told that he had kissed the Soldier.

So Spy started from the beginning. The night of the party. He explained to him the night from his own perspective, and what little he could remember going through his drunken mind. He left out the bits of thinking about Sniper though. He poured out his heart as he reminded himself of what it was like to get to know Andrew Swanson. How Andrew’s shy nature was cute, how he thought so dearly of others, how he went through the trouble to try cooking French dishes, how they had bonded over a mutual feeling of being displaced by war.

He let it all out, and before he could even explain what the RED Spy had done to them, he broke down. He never cried in front of Glenn before. But he lost so much of his control that his knees started to give out. One hand with a cigarette covered his eyes as his other tried to hold him upright. Sniper stepped in to grab him, pulling him in close, half holding him up and half hugging him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Spy baby needed to let it all out.


	32. What are Feelings?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feeling sandwich. Andrew is feeling worse and worse.  
> Spy and Sniper have another chat. More secrets and more lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a Spy as your best friend, there are always more secrets and more lies.

The weekend was nice for relaxation alone. Most everybody had something they wanted to do. Most of them went out to party. Others made plans in town. Andrew did not speak any Spanish, so he stuck by the base. There was nowhere to go where an English speaking man could get around.

He found himself joined by Spies, “What are you two doing out here?”

“Came out here to check on you, amico,” RED Spy answered, as he leaned against the old truck Andrew used for sitting.

“You don’t still hate us, do you?” the BLU Spy asked.

Andrew sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course the Spies were trying to get on his good side. He knew their secret. They were gay, and they were gay for the enemy Spy. It was a mutual love interest that would do more than turn heads, Andrew thought.

“I would have thought we had done our best to show our respect, mon ami,” the BLU Spy said, with a bit of sadness in his voice.

Andrew sat up, putting his feet flat on the ground, “Listen here. I ain’t your _mon ami_ so don’t come out here thinking you can pretend at it.”

“You let my boyfriend,” the BLU Spy motioned to the RED, with a hurt look, “And you are friends with the BLU Medic. What? If it’s not because I’m a Spy and not because I’m the enemy, what is it?”

“I let your boyfriend what?” Andrew pushed his helmet back to show them his glare.

“You let him call you amico,” the BLU Spy said, puzzled.

“What’s amico?” Andrew asked.

“It means friend,” his teammate answered.

Andrew got out of the truck, “I’m not your damn friend. I am not friends with any damned Spies!”

He started marching back towards the base. He felt so stupid, but at the same time so lonely. Being around them made him feel lonelier. They had each other, to love and to hold. He had nobody. And it did not help that those damn balaclavas just reminded him of the man he loved most and the man he most despised.

“What is it?” both of them chased after him.

“Is it because I’m French?” the BLU asked.

“Because we’re not American?” the RED added.

“Is it the way we act around you?” the BLU pleaded.

“NO!” Andrew rounded on them and they stopped dead in their tracks, “I’m not friends with any Spies! Not you! Or you!” He pointed to each of them in turn.

They shared a look, but they said nothing as they let him return to base. Neither of them followed, staying behind to talk amongst themselves.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Sniper woke early as usual. Being used to that kind of thing too, Melisa got up with him. Some weekends they chose to cuddle, but why not seize the day? Besides, he had a Frenchman in the house, and that meant Melisa was going to play the part of a doting hostess.

Spy was a rather gracious guest. Polite as a refined gentleman would be. Sniper chuckled to himself about how he had forgotten that Spy could be such a gentleman, after years of shoving off gruff, unsightly and rude men at the bases. It was difficult to live at a base full of scruffy, old, rude men, but it was probably harder to be a gentleman around those men.

Sniper watched from a slight distance as Spy and Melisa socialized. They did not talk about Mann Co or anything. Instead, Spy tried to keep to topics that were pleasant and peaceful, which pleased Melisa to no end. She told Glenn once that her favorite was Spy, and later claimed that had changed to Sniper, but he could see that playful glint that revealed that Spy was forever her favorite character to watch.

She was a fangirl all over again. She was not a screaming teen this time, instead being calm and rational about everything. Still, he could see her wanting to squeal with delight when he complimented her home, her cooking and anything else in the vicinity.

He tried to take notice of every detail around Spy though. After last night’s talk, he was wary of what Spy might do. His emotions had been rampant. He had had more emotion in him than Sniper thought possible. It reminded Sniper that he was just a human, he may have comforted Sniper and kept most emotions at a distance, but he was still human.

He noted the dark rings that told of the restless night. He probably got an hour’s sleep after the cry he had, blubbering in half French. Still, his gloved fingers twitched uneasily, wishing for a cigarette. The gentleman would not easily dismiss himself from the eager woman’s conversation, and he would not light it up in their kitchen either.

It brought a delighted smile to Sniper’s face to think of Spy this way. People always wondered how they could be friends. This was proof that he had been right all along – they were just judgmental hard asses, and Spy could be a nice guy when he wanted to be.

Still, Spy was covering his distress from the night before. Melisa was not even aware of the talk they had had. She had been aware that he had slipped away, having asked him where he was going. Other than that, she smiled and talked endlessly with Spy about pretty flowers outside and nonsense otherwise, never realizing how much the man was probably hurting.

And if it was true, if Spy really felt about Soldier the way Sniper felt about Melisa, then he had to be burning inside. He thought back to when the Soldier left and winced. The man did not even say goodbye. And when he approached Spy about it, he had brushed off the man’s leave as if it had meant nothing. Perhaps it had to mean something.

He had to wonder though, never knowing of Soldier. Did Spy turn him gay? Was he only with Spy for some unknown reason? Was he even aware of homosexuality? Or did he even have feelings for Spy? These questions rose in his mind and created unnecessary anger in the back of his head.

He cleared his throat, catching Melisa’s attention, “Hey Mel, I’m thinkin’ about heading down to the liquor store. Spy, you probably need smokes, don’t ya?”

Spy hesitated, then nodded slowly. Melisa smiled up at him, accepting the change from her conversation, “Alright. Could you grab some orange juice while you’re there?”

“Sure love?” he gave her a fond smile, before he turned his attention to leading Spy outside.

The cold morning air greeted them as they made their way up the street. The nearest liquor store was not too far away. It was the perfect time to get some exercise and have a smoke. And seeing how Spy did not go for his case, Sniper pulled out his own cigarettes, immediately offering him one.

Spy hesitated before accepting the cigarette with a chuckle, “I have my own. I just did not want to seem impolite.”

“I know you did,” Sniper assured him, “I just…wanna talk.”

Spy nodded as he pulled out his lighter, sharing it briefly with Sniper. They walked in silence for a little while.

“I didn’t know Soldier well,” Sniper admitted, “I regret not getting to know him better, now that I know what he meant to you.”

“You knew,” Spy argued, with a bit of bitterness on his tongue.

“I didn’t know you were lovers of any sort, mate!” Sniper argued gruffly.

“No you knew what he meant to me,” Spy shook his head, “You just didn’t know the full of it and its details.”

“Fine,” Sniper growled, “So…I regret it. I’m sorry. I wish I knew him better. Cause now I don’t even know how to judge this situation.”

“What’s there to judge?” Spy asked.

“Well, you know,” he shrugged. He did not feel right saying it outright, and he figured that Spy knew anyways.

“No I don’t, tell me,” Spy insisted.

Sniper sighed, of course Spy would play this game. “Spy, you’re my friend. We been friends for near forty years, I think. And like when you sized Mel up, I’d have sized Soldier up if I knew any better,” Sniper explained.

Spy took this in with a slow nod, “I see. And you think that is the pivotal topic for the moment?”

Sniper sighed and raised his face to the sky. Spy’s defense mechanism. Sniper had learned the patterns long ago. They were clever, and sometimes threw Sniper for a loop, but there were still patterns for when he was trying to deflect.

“I’m just saying, I feel like I should know this guy better if he’s that kinda person to you,” Sniper insisted, “You know?”

“How do you think I felt?” Spy scoffed.

Sniper was surprised, his heart lurching. He stopped and turned to face Spy, who gave him a puzzled expression. There was a long silence between them as they stared at each other. Neither of them said a thing, they just looked on, one with confusion and the other with defiance.

Spy finally sighed and broke the silence, “How do you really think I felt when you found this woman…this…she wasn’t much more than a girl then actually. And you would come back and talk about her endlessly. Run off on the weekends to spend time with her, but come back and just talk endlessly about her.”

Sniper winced, feeling bad. There was a time when he thought he might have been talking too much. He was talking more at the time than he usually did, because he was excited. This young nineteen-year-old wanted him, some old geezer, and it was working out well between them since. Back then he had thought that maybe he was bragging too much and Spy might have been getting jealous of him, but that seemed so irrelevant now.

Spy sighed again, putting more exaggeration into his breath, “I said, how do you think I felt?” His demand was once again met with silence, which seemed to irk him. “Do you honestly have nothing to say?”

“Well, I can’t know what you were feeling,” Sniper shrugged. He wanted to cower a bit, feeling ashamed.

He shifted from foot to foot uncertainly. He looked at his toes, feeling awkward in sandals. He had enjoyed wearing sandals for camping trips and stuff. It was nice to let his feet breathe for once, but in front of Spy, he felt a little naked without his boots.

He finally looked up at Spy, who had the most impatient look about him. He looked rather miffed at him, waiting for his answer. Knowing Spy though, he would wait until he got Sniper to say something.

“What d’you want me to say?” Sniper exclaimed, throwing his hands up, “I can’t know unless you tell me. I mean, I woulda figured jealous. But if you aren’t into the ladies, then that couldn’t be it.”

Spy got a look like Sniper was right on the mark, “You could be right with that guess.”

Sniper sighed, “But you’re into men, aren’t you? Or is that like…a half and half thing?”

Spy shot him a glare, “I was alone, Sniper! You ran off to be with that girl! And I was alone.” Spy swayed a little, turning his gaze away from Sniper. He looked everywhere but at Sniper. “Sometimes I wished I had the guts to hurt you. And other times I would wish for the courage to tell you.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” Sniper said, hoping to offer his condolences.

“Don’t be sorry!” Spy raised his voice angry, “Don’t say you’re sorry to me!”

“What else you want me to do, Spy?” he pleaded, “I’m really trying here. But you’re making it difficult to tell what you want. You know I ain’t good with faces.”

Spy sighed. He knew all too well that Sniper was not good with people. Reading faces was a skill that Spy had mastered. It was something normal people did that Sniper could not even manage.

“I’m trying to reason out what you want, but I can’t unless you tell me!” Sniper pleaded.

Spy sighed again, turning his face away. His eyes gazed past the few cars that whizzed by them, moving faster than they should on this narrow street. Still, he kept his gaze way from Sniper.

“I was jealous, Glenn,” Spy admitted.

“Because you were alone and I’d found love?” Sniper asked, hoping that he had unraveled the mystery all together.

Spy gave him an irritated sigh, “That wasn’t it.”

“Well, what was it?” Sniper pressed, impatiently.

Spy’s eyes lowered to the concrete at the edge of the sidewalk, “You don’t know how I felt about you.”

“I’m trying to guess what you felt about it all, and you keep me guessing!” Sniper exclaimed, with frustration.

“I’m talking about how I felt about _you_ , not about her, not about all of this,” Spy waved his arms around in the air. He kept his gaze solidly on the ground though, refusing to meet Sniper’s gaze.

Sniper waited, with the sounds of children’s voices and car engines rolling by to fill the silence. He would patiently wait for his friend to finish his thought. He knew Spy thought at a million miles per hour, but the man would make him wait, so he waited.

Spy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You don’t know what you meant to me then.”

“What I meant to you?” Sniper’s heart lurched as he came to the conclusion that was staring him in the face. Spy was gay, he was not, but perhaps Melisa was right about him being a fairly handsome man.

“You meant a lot to me,” Spy said, with a tone like sadness or despair.

“You…me?!” Sniper pointed at Spy and then at himself.

He guffawed. It was impossible, he thought. Spy could love, that much he had figured out. But to love him? Like that? Sniper was perhaps attractive, but not in the way he figured Spy would be attracted to men. Of course, he had yet to fully wrap his mind around exactly what Spy looked for in a romantic partner.

“ _Then_! Back _then_!” Spy snapped at him.

“You having feelings for me?” Sniper stared at him with disbelief.

Those hazel eyes came to meet his, “I _had_ feelings. It was just a crush. That was all. Still, you’ve always meant a lot to me. To the day, I treasure our friendship and would not want it to change.”

“That’s…um…” he did not know what to say.

He did not know how to process this information. He had been fully prepared for his friend to tell him how unattractive he was to him. He was ready for excuses as to why Spy would never date _him_ of all the mercenaries. He was not ready for this.

“Sniper, don’t think on it too hard,” Spy stated, “I was jealous of Melisa. Not just romantic interest. But, she had your time _and_ your interest. For a long time, maybe even still now, you don’t trust me. How much you do trust me baffles me, given I have nobody else to call friend. I haven’t had that in anybody else. And she took your time, your love and the interest you had in being around other people.”

Sniper took this in in silence. Looking at it from a non-romantic perspective made it feel okay. It felt better. He did not want to look at Spy with romantic interest. But looking at it as a friend who had ignored his best pal for a pretty girl, he felt guilty.

“Only time I got to spend with you was when you wanted to talk about Melisa,” Spy went on, with a sigh, “And of course I became jealous of her for taking all the time you would talk about other things.”

“I…I’m sorry, mate,” Sniper said, guilt ridden and ashamed.

“It was long ago, don’t say sorry,” Spy said, with a cold tone.

“But I am! I’m real sorry!” Sniper exclaimed, “For a Spook, it surprises me still that we’re friends. But trust or no trust, I considered you a friend for a long time. You’re a good man. I can see it when you talk to Mel. When you talked with Soldier, it was like you made him a better nicer person too. You’re a great guy and it is nice to be around you. You aren’t loud or boisterous, but always down to talk.”

He let out his own sigh, a deep heavy one. He could not believe it. All of this time he had been thinking of Spy as a lady killer and for the longest time the man had been pining after him. How terribly he would have reacted had Spy confronted him long ago with his feelings. He probably would have laid him out long ago. This time was different though.

“I can’t express how I feel very well all the time. It’s something I been working with with Mel,” he explained slowly.

“I’m sure,” Spy gave him a contempt roll of his eyes.

“I’m serious,” he pressed, “Facial expressions and stuff. I don’t do well with those, but Mel’s pretty normal so she’s been helping me with expressing myself. So I’ve been trying to do better.”

“I look forward to see you become _normal_ , mon ami,” Spy started laughing.

“Ain’t funny,” Sniper said sternly, “I’m serious!”

“How old are you now, Sniper? Near a hundred at least!” Spy was smiling, with an almost giddy look about him. But that had to be Spy’s acting or Sniper’s foolishness with facial cues. “Old habits don’t change and old men don’t learn new tricks so easily!”

“They do if they really wanna,” Sniper growled.

Spy’s laughter slowly died down and he sighed, “Then I’ll try learning too.”

“Learning what? To read facial cues?” Sniper asked, bewildered by the suggestion.

Spy threw his head back and started laughing again. He hooted and hollered while Sniper stood there in confusion. Finally, Spy looped an arm over his shoulders and led him off towards the liquor store.

“Let’s get Melisa that orange juice, yea?” Spy’s laughter slowly died down to giggling.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Oh how Spy missed quality time with Sniper. It had become more and more lately, but it was not like this. Maybe he was just that mopey lately, that caught up in his own thoughts and woes. But he should not ignore his friend so much.

After returning, they joined Melisa in the kitchen, as she had prepared them an early lunch. That was apparently what the orange juice was for. Spy could not eat much, since he had recently eaten, but found that the happy couple were all too happy to eat third helpings.

He watched them talk and dote on each other long into the afternoon. Melisa had silly quirks, just a few, which Sniper seemed to love the heck out of. And Sniper’s quirks, especially the one with facial expression, were something Melisa worked on. She even made dramatic facial expressions to force him to guess what she was thinking. It was extremely entertaining, but not at all helpful to Sniper’s learning curve.

He liked seeing Sniper so happy. He had heard all about how she made him happy, but now he could really see it. Little moments were the tells. There were small pecks on the cheek in passing. Moments when Sniper would suddenly smile, because she passed through the corner of his vision. They were the vision of a perfect happy couple – with some odds against them and some imperfections that made them unique.

As the day wore on, he felt he had worn out his welcome, so he thanked them. He shook hands with Sniper, received an overly enthusiastic hug from Melisa, and took to his car. There he remembered that he was a mercenary. It was like stepping out of that house and into a vehicle that still had the distinct smell of guns just took him out of that moment. He had been at peace, but now he was to return to that fake war, a war that did not matter.

 

*********************************************************************

 

BLU Medic and RED Engineer watched Andrew thoughtfully. He watched them back out of the corner of his eye. He had been drinking beers all evening, and had come to the point of drunkenness that he figured he could not go back from. He had gone from giddy and talkative to unable to get a word out without a slur.

“Listen, Andrew,” Engineer spoke softly, “I don’t mean to kill your buzz, but you been drinking an awful lot lately.”

Andrew grumbled, barely able to make a response. He did not want to stop drinking. He felt good when he was drinking. He forgot about life when he was drinking.

“It’s not good for your health,” the Medic added, “Even with respawn.”

Andrew sighed and mumbled something about the Spy. More and more lately he had a funny feeling. It had been tingling around him. It tickled the back of his mind. He had decided that it might well mean Spy was never coming back into his life. He was stuck down here in Mexico anyways.

“Even if you don’t care, we do,” Engineer said, his brow furrowed with concern.

“We’re your friends,” Medic added.

Andrew sighed, mumbling a bit of gratitude. He figured they could not understand him at this point and gave up. That was when he heard the familiar German voice from down the hallway.

“Sit still! You imbecile! Look what you’ve done!” the man was shouting.

Andrew looked around the room at all the stiff backed people. Neither BLU Medic nor RED Engineer spoke. Neither liked the RED Medic, and neither would approach him.

Andrew had heard things like this before, but generally shrugged it off. Whoever was in surgery was probably in a lot of trouble to keep riling the Medic up.

“We’re just saying, you should go easy on the drinks,” the RED Engineer picked up their conversation.

Andrew took another drink, as if not listening. He still nodded though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if it ended like this? ~~not really though~~


	33. Regression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew has a slow but steady regression of his mental state. He discovers new things about his pals of RED and BLU bases in Mexico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know the next time I will have wifi. I will still be writing this, don't worry, but I might be without wifi connection for a few days. Maybe a week. Who knows?  
> I am moving to Japan for work, so I will be busy. Fingers crossed that I get wifi sooner rather than later.

The hangover was bad. Andrew was glad that it was a Sunday though. Sunday was a day he could sleep in. He could not when he had family, as they had expected him to go to church with them. He had not seen the point, because how do you save a soul that was left behind in Europe.

Still, a fragment of his old self came out and told him he needed to get up and keep some structure to his day. He groaned as he got himself out of bed. He slowly stretched and massaged the tense and painful areas of his body before he got about to morning ritual.

The day went on with relative quiet, until he heard the doctor yelling again. His headache was infuriated by this. He decided that there was no reason to be pissing about and screaming on a lovely Sunday, so he stormed down to that infirmary to stop whatever was going on.

He planted a solid kick to the double doors and marched in. His head swiveled about until he found the Medic bowed over an old ceramic tub full of ice water and Heavy. The man laid in the ice water, shivering and cowering. His eyes darted towards Soldier and widened.

The Medic questioned the Heavy, and then he turned on his heel. At first he was surprised. He had a slight widening to his eyes at the Soldier’s arrival in his infirmary.

“Is there something I can help you with?” the Medic placed his hands behind his back.

“You can keep the noise level down!” he demanded.

“I’m afraid no can do, as our massive friend here is very loud during treatment,” the Medic turned to the Heavy. The man turned his head away with a look of embarrassment. “Don’t be such a baby!”

“What kind of treatment requires a damn bath?” Andrew growled, too irritated to care, “Walk it off son!”

“Hah!” the Medic barked. Nothing more was said though, so Andrew turned and left the infirmary, hopefully to enjoy his day.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy was glad to have Sniper at his back when he approached Miss Pauling. He had thought Glenn was going to spend the rest of his time with Melisa, but it seemed he was more than happy to help Spy. He was not sure how well Sniper was going to do under pressure, but maybe he could at least be there for reference of how this all goes down.

Miss Pauling did not look the least bit surprised. In fact, though she tried to hide it, she looked ecstatic. She looked thrilled. She looked like she did not care that there was a possibility that somebody had laid out the truth for him. She just pulled out a contract and handed it to him.

After reading it over, he refused, demanding more terms. It was a long and tedious argument between himself and Pauling, with Sniper looming in the corner. He was mostly useless here, but it was nice to know he was there for support. Spy would not let up for the longest time though, refusing to let Miss Pauling talk him into any contract that did not put Andrew back on his own team on BLU.

In the end, he had agreed to a temporary contract that would last six months. It would give Pauling enough time to try to get Andrew back to his team. She had that time frame to work with, and Spy had a promise to sit on, as long as he was quiet about everything going on.

He returned to base with Sniper, each man in his own vehicle. They pulled up to base together though, and then walked in together. Entering the mess hall together seemed to draw a bit too much attention for Spy’s liking. People started asking questions about where Spy had gone off to, curious as to why it seemed like him and Sniper came back together. Sniper was the one who told them off.

While Spy appreciated his friend’s defensive behavior, he did not like it. It was too defensive. He was easy to anger, despite his patient temperament. And the others started picking on him hard core, until his ears turned red. That part was kind of cute, until Sniper started kicking tables over.

 

*********************************************************************

 

December 2004

It was just a normal work day. Everything was average. The BLU team won today, but as always both sides were good sports. It did not even seem to matter that anybody died during the match due to anybody on the other side. That was all except for RED Medic.

It was a bad temperament to have and everybody knew it. Andrew was just glad none of them even knew what a humiliation round was – with only one man on BLU who had ever _heard_ of **no quarter** , which was the Soldier. He was a little glad for it, seeing how it meant that nobody could go crazy when the day was won, nobody could go around killing the others. They could just take their win and go about their day, and nobody felt grudges for the heartless killing. He wondered if half the rage back in the woods had been because of the rampant and heartless killings done at the end of a victorious round.

Still, RED Medic found ways to be mean and nasty at the end of a bad lose. Andrew was honestly quite sick of it. He wanted to do something about this nonsense. The man could not simply go around blaming everybody else and acting like they had no right to peace in their lives. So he stormed down to the infirmary.

Just as he walked in, he heard the Heavy crying out, “Please! Just let go! Let go! Please no!”

He turned to squarely face the two. The bigger man was trying to pull away, failing to drag himself away from a surgery table, to which his hand was still cuffed. Andrew would think nothing of it, but the handcuff was suspicious and not the kind of thing that Medic should be using.

“Just relax,” the Medic said, “The sedative will wear in eventually.”

“No! Stop! You can’t keep-” Heavy cut off when he saw Andrew.

Their eyes met and it felt weird. There were tears in the big man’s eyes. He looked rather helpless, nothing like the jolly man he was in the recreational room. It seemed weird that such a big strong man, who proved himself capable on the battlefield, was being easily subdued by the small German. And that was not just saying he was smaller, the Medic actually was pretty scrawny compared to most men, even compared to the Medics back in the woods. But, the BLU Medic was definitely smaller.

“What are you-” the Medic turned around. The way the light hit his glasses hid his eyes, but Andrew could see the hate and anger in his face. “What are you doing in here? Can’t you see I am busy?” the man scoffed with frustration.

“What are you doing?” Andrew demanded, still standing in front of the double doors.

“I am testing treatment on a patient! No leave!” the Medic demanded.

The Heavy tried to say something, but it came out too slurred for Andrew to understand it. He was obviously under the influence of something strong, especially strong for such a big man who could hold his liquor. It was unusual and alarmed Andrew, who often drank with the Russian.

“You shut up!” the Medic turned to scream down at his falling patient. The Heavy was quickly failing to hold himself up off of the ground, with one arm still cuffed to the table.

“This treatment is over,” Andrew walked over, fully ready to snap Heavy’s neck and send him to respawn.

“You have no place to be in here! Do not interrupt my work!” the Medic stepped in his way.

The man was at his height, but he had this way of making himself seem taller. Those searing blue eyes had an intensity to them that spoke of hot fires. It was demonic in expression, and made all of Andrew’s insides cringe. He had to put up defenses to fight his shy feelings.

He puffed up his chest and straightened his back. He brought out his full height to allow his full potential to try and intimidate the man. He pulled down on one side of his mouth, with disgust. Both of his hands went behind his back as he put on his best militant posture.

“Work is done! All men who have been injured have already healed! If there is something more, then the Heavy can be treated when he is good and ready! Not when he is cuffed to a damn table,” he raised his voice to a military-esque rant.

“You think I am intimidated by you?” there was a giggle in the Medic’s tone, “You think I would stand down from you? You are nothing. Nothing!”

Andrew raised himself taller, lifting off of his heels a little, “You are picking a fight you cannot win! If you challenge me, you will find that I do not take it easy on REDs!”

 

Andrew did not remember what happened after that. It just vanished from his memory and he was left on his back on the floor of the infirmary. The Engineer was there, coaxing him to stay down, letting him know that the Medic would be around soon. He rubbed his head and remembered that he had been standing up to the Medic.

He sat bolt upright, much to Engineer’s despair. The man tried to push him back down, to keep him from getting hurt. Andrew felt fine, for the most part. His ears were ringing a tad bit, but that did not seem unusual. His head hurt, but that could be from simply being very angry. Whatever the Medic had done afterwards could very well have been bad enough to make the world turn red.

Sniper and Demoman were crouched next to Heavy, trying to soothe him as he wept in his hands. In another corner was the Pyro, who was trying to calm the Medic down. The Medic looked like he had been beat to shit, but was completely alert and awake. One eye was swollen shut and a bloody mark sent a trickle of red down his gray sideburn. His eye flickered to Andrew and his eyes flared with hatred. He was sure he had seen it before and had not acknowledged it, but after this, he had to acknowledge what was in front of his face.

“Doc’s here!” Scout burst through the doors, with the BLU Medic in tow.

“What is this? What’s going on? What happened?” the Medic went down to one knee next to Soldier, “What did you do, my friend?”

“He was in here with Medic! They were beating the shit outta each other!” the Scout explained hastily.

“Go on and see to that bloke,” the Engineer waved off the Scout, not really specific about which man he was talking about.

He turned his attention to Andrew, as did the Medic, “You alright there, son?”

“I’m fine,” Andrew said, wincing as the Medic put a wet cloth to his forehead.

“You are not okay, you have blunt force trauma,” the Medic gently cleaned a wound at his hairline, causing it to burn with rubbing alcohol.

“Doc, can ya put your priorities in order for a moment?” the Sniper called over to him.

The Medic glanced at him, then over at the other Medic. He quickly turned away. His tensed body made Andrew feel alarmed as he started pouring himself into his work. It did not help that he started to be a little more rough with his hand on Andrew’s wounds.

“I think I’m fine, doc,” Andrew insisted.

“Lip’s busted, head is swollen, hand is sliced to bits,” Engineer was gentle as he prodded Andrew’s body, “You’re not alright, pal.”

Andrew looked at Engineer, then back to the Medic, “How bad is it doc?”

“Well…” the Medic hesitated to explain.

“Not half so bad as the Medic over here!” Pyro exclaimed.

“Something’s wrong with Heavy, too,” Sniper added, rubbing the Heavy’s back.

BLU Medic rose to his full height to address the entire room, “Would you shut up?!” There were a few moments of silence that filled the gap. “I will get to him when I get to him,” he motioned to the Medic, “And if he is any worse than the Soldier, then you can simply send him to respawn!”

“How dare you! You insolent, impudent Jew!” the RED Medic growled, trying to get to his feet. It was quickly made clear that his legs and possibly the rest of his body, made it impossible for him to rise off the floor.

“I _am_ a Medic with experience in assessing which patient to treat first! The Soldier is badly wounded and in need of treatment. From here I can already tell that the Heavy does not have any physical ailments, so you can take him out of here and calm him down with a beer,” the man’s accent started to slur towards the end, then he cleared his throat and tried to speak even clearer, “And if this man thinks he is deserving of a doctor’s time, after such behavior, I think the respawn can teach him otherwise. I will treat the Soldier and I will get to him when I get to him.”

With that, the Medic turned swiftly to the cabinets to retrieve some supplies. He brought them back to tend to Andrew’s wounds. He seemed more confident than ever, his eyes narrowed and his back straight. Andrew had never seen him look so sure of himself, like he was a whole new person.

Andrew was silent as the others moved the other two patients. Demo and Sniper helped the Heavy toddle out of the infirmary. Pyro and Scout attempted to help Medic, but the man was suddenly not in the mood to be helped. He would get off the floor himself, except he could only just barely lift his weight off the floor. He admitted to having a possible hip fracture and asked the Pyro to end him quickly.

 

February 2005

It had been so long that Andrew had almost forgotten. The BLU Medic was practically a whole new person since he yelled at the other Medic. He did not shy away so much. He was more talkative with other members of both teams. He still avoided his counterpart, who did the same, but he was bolder and almost happier.

Andrew was proud of him, and praised him at every turn, hoping to encourage the behavior. He was glad that the man was finally upright in a sense. He could hold his own, he did not cower away, and he made his own friends. He became everybody’s friend, but he never forgot that Andrew was his friend.

“Hello, Soldier,” the BLU Medic approached him.

“Hi Medic,” he smiled broadly, “A fine day isn’t it? BLU fought well today, but RED took the win!” He smiled proudly at his own victory.

“Ah yes, congratulations,” the Medic seemed dismissive. He did not seem to care much about who won today’s battle.

“Are you upset?” he asked, hoping that Medic was not covering some feelings about having lost.

“No no,” Medic shook his head, “It’s just that…there are more important things on my mind. You see, I-”

He cut off, staring at Andrew for the longest time. He finally sighed and shook his head. He seemed to give up, as if something was not worth talking about. That made Andrew frown and clap him over the Shoulder. When he finally took a breath and spoke again, it was with a heavy heart in his tone.

“RED Heavy and I have become friends as of late…and well…he told me something about himself…and the RED Medic…that are…disturbing,” he explained. He was speaking so slowly and in broken segments. He seemed slightly out of it, perhaps not making out quite what he wanted to say before he spoke. “I am not sure what to make of it,” he explained, “But, I can’t betray his trust and tell another.”

“Is he alright?” Andrew quirked an eyebrow at him.

“He’s fine now,” the BLU Medic insisted.

“What’s wrong then?” Andrew asked, feeling a little confused. He hoped it was not just him missing something entirely.

“I cannot tell you, my friend,” the Medic sighed, “As much as I would like to unburden myself, I must carry this…for my friend.”

“I will not guilt you into talking about it if you do not wish to,” Andrew nodded to him. They each picked up a fresh beer and clinked them together before taking long deep swigs.

 

March 2005

BLU Medic was showing Andrew how he should be better taking care of his hands, when Engineer and Heavy approached them. Heavy had this downtrodden look about him that just seemed to weigh him down heavily. It was a harsh look, like a man beaten down beyond repair.

“Hey there, Engie!” Andrew greeted his friend with a smile.

“Medic, there’s something Heavy would like to say to you,” he said. He turn to Andrew, “Could me and you speak in private?”

“Sure Engie,” Andrew sucked down the last of his beer and hopped off his stool to follow the other man.

The shorter man led him a distance away. Behind him, he could already hear the big Russian man and the tiny Medic talking away. He did not know what they were saying. They could have been speaking another language for all he could tell. They were too far away for him to know what they were discussing.

When Engineer finally stopped and turned to him, he had a terrified look on his face. He looked Soldier up and down, while the blood ran away from his head. He pulled his goggles up, revealing his eyes. They conveyed fear beyond Andrew’s understanding.

“What’s got you shaken, Engie?” he demanded, “Was it Medic? Our Medic! I’ll tear him a new one! _Another_ new one!”

Engineer’s eyes watered as he chuckled breathily, “You’re always like that, aren’t you?”

“What’s wrong?” Andrew felt shocked to see tears in the man’s eyes. It was not so shocking, since Engineer was an openly emotional man, compared to others. But, he did not expect him to cry when he looked so scared.

“It’s…I…I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” Engineer began, “I don’t want to hurt, but I don’t want to change nothing either.”

Andrew frowned. This was starting to sound a little off to him. He started to wonder if this was a joke. But, Engineer would not play such a joke on him, unless it was not Engineer he was talking to. In fact, he started to wonder if this was Engineer at all, and not some Spy pulling a little prank on him for not being their ‘amico’ or their ‘mon ami.’ He reached out and pinched the Engineer’s arm.

“Ow! Dammit Soldier!” he exclaimed, grasping his arm in pain.

“Good, so you’re not a Spy,” he stated, glad to see that it was indeed not a Spy’s prank. But if it was not a prank, then what was it?

“Soldier, I’m trying to open up to you,” Engineer said with frustration, “I got something to say and it’s real important that you listen!”

“Then spill it!” Soldier stated.

Engineer opened his mouth, his watery eyes jumping between the Andrew’s eyes. Suddenly he turned and shoved past him. He put an arm over his face, rubbing his eyes across his sleeve.

“I can’t!” Engineer announced, marching past the Heavy and the Medic, “I can’t do it!”

Heavy stopped and stared after him. Seeing that the other man had stopped, the Medic did the same, looking after the Engineer curiously. Andrew was not staring though, he was following right after him. This was no time or place to be crying like a little baby, it was time to be men! Engineer was a man and if he needed to get it out, then he would get it out and feel better, so he could man up.

“Engie! What were you trying to say? What’s going on?” Andrew pleaded.

Engineer refused to turn his head. He refused to stop or even to pause. In fact, he picked up his pace.

“Don’t you turn your back to me when I’m talkin’ to you, Engie!” Soldier grabbed his arm and forcibly whipped him around. That was when he heard the surprised gasps of the men behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see that RED Heavy and BLU Medic were right behind him.

“I can’t, I can’t do it,” Engineer held his arm up to guard his eyes.

“Just do it,” Heavy pleaded, “You’ll feel better.”

“What? What? What’s going on? What does he need to do?” the Medic asked, looking up at the Russian man curiously.

“Is…is little secret he keeps from friends,” Heavy said insistently, “Tell him, Engineer.”

“No I couldn’t,” Engineer shook his head.

“If you don’t tell me son, you’re going to regret it,” Andrew stated solemnly. It must be something big, something that only Engineer would find so embarrassing though.

Engineer looked at him with wide frightened eyes. “He is not threatening,” Heavy insisted, “He is simply speak truth.”

“What is it?” the Medic pleaded, fervently. He did not like being kept out of loops. It was hard to get the BLU Medic to enjoy a surprise party.

“He is same- like me,” the Heavy told the Medic, “But he feel different.”

“Oh,” the Medic nodded slowly, turning to look over at the Engineer.

Andrew turned to face the Engineer squarely, “Take it off like a bandage, soldier!”

The Engineer took a deep breath, and when he let it out he looked sunken and broken. It was a pitiful look that made Andrew feel bad about encouraging the whole thing. Maybe he did need some more time. Maybe it would hurt him if he tried to say it now. His eyes looked so red and puffy, now that tears were trying to escape his corneas.

“I-I’m in love with you, Soldier,” he stated, a bit shakily, but a bit firmly.

Andrew heard that four letter word and needed a few moments to think about it. He had stated his title, so he definitely did mean him. He had witnesses too, meaning that Andrew could ask them if Engineer did not quite repeat what he said, in case he was hearing wrong.

He pushed his helmet up to get the better view, “Come again?”

“That was unexpected,” he heard Medic mutter behind him. The Heavy gave him a little nudge to shut him up.

“I’ve really liked you for a long time,” the Engineer explained. He had a slight pucker to his lower lip. “I have had these feelings building up, but I couldn’t tell you,” he glanced up at the Heavy behind Soldier, “Until Heavy convinced me I should…explain them to you.”

He sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. He looked down, with red in the face and a stray tear threatening to fall down his round cheek. He did not look up again, as if his brain had simply shut off.

Heavy nudged Andrew from behind, and he turned his head to look up at him. He removed his helmet completely, putting it under his arm. Heavy was motioning to Engineer in an encouraging manner.

“Talk to him,” Heavy said, “Tell him how you feel about this. How does make you feel?”

“Uhh…” Medic looked between Heavy and Andrew nervously, “I don’t think Soldier will handle the same as I did.”

“Same as you?” Andrew stared at the Medic curiously.

“No, this is about Engineer,” Medic flicked his wrist dismissively.

Andrew turned back to the Engineer, “Um…I um…” He scratched the back of his neck.

The Engineer liked him like that? The Engineer had feelings for him? The Engineer had bonded with him as a friend, but he had not thought that they were that close. He had not realized that Engineer even thought he was that attractive. He just thought they were pals.

He offered Engineer a small smile. He tried to think of what to say, but was not sure. He tried to dig for something, like a feeling. He was not sure he could make himself reciprocate the words. He could not tell the Engineer a lie.

“I’m not sure what to say, Engie,” Andrew said, feeling the flush in his cheeks.

“Ah hell,” Engie rubbed the back of his neck, “You don’t have to say anythin’ if you don’t want to. I simply needed to get that off my chest.”

Andrew nodded slowly as he took that in, “Well, I’m going to be honest with you.” He hesitated when Engineer took a sharp intake of breath. “I ain’t mad. And I still want us to be friends.” Engineer’s expression got a little sad at the realization of what that meant. “I just don’t feel that way about you,” Soldier explained, “But I want us to be friends, if we can be.”

“That’d be swell,” Engineer said, with a flush to his cheeks.

Heavy gave a loud sigh, “Is good thing.” He stepped around Andrew to clap them both on the shoulders. “Now can all be good friends and not feel so bad.”

Andrew smiled, then turned to Medic, “How was that same as you?”

Medic turned red in the face and looked to Heavy. The bigger man chuckled and tapped Andrew’s shoulder. He turned around to see the big man’s red face. Standing next to the Engineer, he could not tell which of the two was redder, though Medic was definitely the reddest.

“I feel for doctor,” he explained, “But doctor does not feel same. We have decided to be good friends.”

The BLU Medic chuckled awkwardly, “Well, as good of friends as we can be.”

Heavy nodded, “Is good. I am glad.”

“Well that was quite the show, was it not?” the BLU Spy suddenly appeared out of blue smoke. Next to him, the RED Spy appeared.

“You! What are you two doing here?!” the Engineer exclaimed, with an embarrassed look across his face.

“Oh no,” the BLU Medic groaned, putting a hand to his eyes.

“Was just passing by and happened to notice _this_ affair!” the BLU Spy suppressed a laugh.

“Quite the scene,” the RED Spy chuckled in agreement, as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Let’s…how about we go get drinks? I need a drink,” Medic stated.

“Me too,” Engie nodded to Medic, before they headed to the cooler full of beers.

Heavy remained in his place and looked to Andrew, “Soldier will be okay?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Andrew nodded, placing his helmet on his head, “I just hope Engineer will be alright. I consider him a good pal o’ mine. I don’t want him to hurt cause I don’ want him. I simply…”

His mind drew away from the moment, back to the woods. He was back in his room, with the man out of his suit for the first time. They were skin to skin, and all he could smell was the man’s special imported cigarette that seemed to brand its stink into his skin. It felt strange because he had not thought of the Spy in months, so it was odd that he could remember all of what happened four years ago, with such a vivid feeling.

He choked up, feeling the pain return. He wanted to return to the smoking room. He wanted to return to that familiar place, where he got his regular back massage. He wanted to go back and sneak into that private room that only he got to see the inside of. He wanted to curl up in that bed and bury his face until the Spy came back to find him there.

“Soldier is okay?” Heavy asked with stronger concern in his voice.

Andrew took a deep breath and forced the memory away. He cleared his throat, pushing aside his feelings and the forming lump. He needed his voice not to crack at this moment. He needed to be supportive of his friend.

“I’m fine,” he nodded again, “I just…I do got things on my mind. But, let’s go have a beer with Engie.”

“Yes, let’s,” Heavy led the way over to the cooler, where Medic and Engineer had already started drinking with the Spies.

 

March 2005

“What is Soldier doing?” he turned his head to see Heavy had approached beside him.

He pushed back his helmet to look up at heavy curiously, “I’m deciding which perch to find a good look at the battlements.”

Heavy nodded, “Is good idea. Can tell Heavy what is-”

“Get moving, you oaf!” the RED Medic’s angry voice came raging out of respawn. He hefted his kritzkrieg with an angry snarl.

Heavy cringed, which made Andrew stiffen to erect attention, “You should be at the front, nurse!” He spat a stream of spit across the ground, settling over the Medic’s boot.

The man looked at the spit, then snarled at him, “You dummkopfs piss me off at every round!”

“You should be a better teammate and doctor!” the Heavy stated, knowing what Andrew was thinking.

“If you had half the moxy the Heavy here has, you’d be better than the man you’ve ever been!” Andrew growled.

“I wouldn’t want an inch of what he is,” the Medic gave the Heavy a disgustedly measured look.

“Is fine, let’s go, Soldier,” Heavy started forward.

“I’m sick of this maggot’s tone!” Andrew growled.

Heavy gasped with outright surprise. Andrew rarely ever used that word anymore. It made him think of all the words he did not use anymore. He had an elaborately offensive vocabulary. It was about time he used it.

“You are the most disrespectful of them all, American swine!” the Medic announced.

“You shut your mouth, you prissy little ninny! Your type belongs in the deepest pits of Merasmus’ curses!” Andrew took a step closer to Medic, raising himself as high as he could. He would not stand down, he would not be dissuaded.

“Hah! Not offensive coming from the most mentally handicapped idiot on this team! Your kind is cannon fodder for the front ranks! A waste of time that should be marched into gas chambers!” Medic kept his voice low, growling with a steady tone.

Andrew shook as rage overwhelmed him. He was seeing red now. When he spoke this time, he did not know what he was saying. He did not know what he was doing. He did not know how to stop it either. All he caught were bits and pieces along the way. He knew that he threw in the word ‘maggot’ a half dozen times, Heavy tried three times to calm him down and then tried to drag him off, and he finally lost it when the Medic literally hailed the third reich.

 

A smack woke him from his blackout. Andrew’s eyes opened back up to see that he was clutching the RED Medic. He was a beaten and bloody pulp, barely breathing through his mouth, as his nose was disfigured. His own face was throbbing from the pain of a beating. But the man was no longer moving, no longer defending himself, just muttering pleas of mercy.

“Snap out of it, mon ami!” the BLU Spy reached out to smack him again.

The RED Spy caught his wrist, “I think he _has_ already.”

Andrew looked to each of them, and then back to Medic, “What just happened?”

“You beat the shit outta Medic, amigo,” the Sniper let out a low whistle.

“That was quite the beating,” the RED Spy nodded. He was studying the Medic’s face curiously.

“You really lost your temper there,” the Sniper noted, “You have something against the Medic, Soldier?”

“I-” Soldier’s body trembled as he released the Medic, “I…he said something about Nazi…and I lost my mind.”

“Ah,” the BLU Spy glanced over at his lover, “You were in the Second World War, were you not?”

Andrew nodded slowly, trying to look anywhere but at anybody. He did not want to look at any of them. He did not want to look at what he did to his team Medic. He did not want to look at the others. He felt so ashamed.

“Is nothing new,” Andrew was surprised to hear the Heavy a little ways behind him, “Everybody knows Medic is Nazi. Hates jews. Thinks homosexuals are ill. Believes the crippled are waste of space.”

The Sniper let out another low whistle, “I knew he was a Nazi, but I didn’t know he was that low.”

“Is…” Heavy sighed and put a hand on Soldier’s shoulder, “Let’s talk, in private.”

Andrew nodded and followed the man’s lead. They were still out on the battlements. In fact, he could still hear both Demomen as they fought. The BLUs and REDs should still be at each other’s throats.

Heavy sighed when he faced Andrew, “Is important that you know. Medic has been testing on teammates.”

“Testing what on teammates?” Andrew asked, with surprise.

Heavy was slow in responding, “He thinks…he thinks homosexuality is a disease. He thinks he can cure. He finds out I am homosexual and turns me into experiment.”

“How’d he find that out?” Andrew flinched with surprise.

The Heavy shrugged, shrinking with a humiliated look, “Was confessing to him.”

“You were?” Andrew’s eyebrows rose as the Heavy nodded. He paused to scratch his head, pushing back his helmet. “Wow. Why did nobody tell me?”

“Did not know if Soldier was okay with it,” Heavy explained, “Soldier is proud American. Soldier also seem very conservative. From old time. Second Great War was long ago. And now I know you are on our side, I can trust you.”

“Of course you can trust me!” Andrew announced. He paused when he realized that there was something specific that Heavy was talking about. “Trust me with what?”

“Can trust you not to tell when you find out who is homosexual,” he explained, “Can trust you to protect Engineer. Can trust you to protect Spies.”

“Protect…Engineer? The Spies? I don’t understand,” Andrew shook his head, feeling a bit spun by this.

“Engineer like men,” Heavy stated, “I think Spy likes men. I think Spy like men like BLU Spy. But, is only theory. But men who like men become target for Medic, like me and Demoman.”

Andrew flinched at that. Demoman too? He could not believe what he was hearing.

“Soldier must help keep secret, and protect friends,” Heavy stated, “Can I trust you to do that?”

“I’ll do more than that!” Soldier announced. He could feel the heat of rage in his face as he stormed back to where the Medic was.

Everybody tried to get in his way, but he bouldered through them. He lifted the Medic off of the ground, bringing him to eye level. He snarled angrily in his face.

“Son, you are going to be more fired than a barbeque! And when I’m done with you, I’m going to make you wish your momma never kissed your pa!” he growled. The Medic merely winced and whimpered in response, and the other REDs peeled them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to point out something the RED Medic said to BLU Medic before the BLU Medic grew a pair.  
> Being he is a Nazi, and the two of them come from an era where Nazi Germany demeaned, demoralized and dehumanized Jews and Judaism, simply using the word Jew in the context that he did, he spoke derogatorily towards the BLU Medic. And it was felt by BLU Medic, but I am not sure most readers, being of a younger generation, would notice that.  
> It is important to know how a character is feeling about something. But I did not feel that Andrew could convey that feeling, being neither Jewish or in the BLU Medic's shoes.
> 
> So yea, most everybody there has noticed that Andrew is a little different but nobody has thought to help him with it. He is kind of regressing back to an earlier state. More blackouts, more hallucinations.


	34. Change is Like a Train Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change is like a train ride. And on that train, a few things change for the men from Mexico.  
> Also, Spy discovers the handlers of RED and BLU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you have a 10 hour flight and nothing better to do? You write several chapters, that's what.  
> I am now in Japan, so I am in a different time zone and everything. I don't know how my work schedule will be effecting writing either. I might be getting back to writing my original works soon too.

May 2005

Spy was relieved when Miss Pauling finally contacted him. It was an indirect contact though, bringing in news of their upcoming relocation. At first, it was met with disgust and frustration, but they found they would not be going far. There was apparently a whole new base being built for BLU only fifty or so miles from here. It was a look, a small exchange of body language, and he was sure he would be seeing Andrew soon.

The move was gradual, given they did not have to move all at once. Fifty miles was not so far, when one had their own vehicle. He did look forward to what he knew was coming though, so he moved in as quickly as he could. No need to waste time with extra labor.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was just as surprised as the others to hear he would be moving up to America. And right in the same state as before, no less. It was exciting to think about.

All of the mercenaries, on both RED and BLU – who knew their counterparts would also be moving – were excitedly packing. Soldier did not have too much to pack though, mostly hats. His hats were too much to contain in his bag. He tried stacking them to try and wear them all on top of his head.

“That won’t work,” a familiar French accent took him off guard. He spun around, his fist flailing in hopes of catching the Spy’s nose.

He missed as the man ducked out of the way. He sidestepped, moving out of Andrew’s range. It seemed that even within the small space of his room, Andrew would have to move a whole lot more than he wanted to in the heat to catch the BLU.

“All of those hats…you might as well just pack a suitcase,” the BLU Spy commented.

Andrew harrumphed at him, “I don’t do much packing, Spy. All I need’s my pack and I’ll be fine.”

The Spy sighed, “Would I be wasting my time to offer you a bag? One that would fit your hats?”

“Why would you do a thing like that?” Andrew demanded, rounding on him.

He put his hands up defensively, “Because we’re friends.”

“I’m not your friend, Spy!” he declared angrily. He shook a warning finger at the man, “Get out before I escort you out!”

“Alright, alright,” the Frenchman sighed and rolled his eyes before he cloaked. Andrew did not hear a peep more about the subject.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The road was long and a bit arduous for Spy’s car. He took it steady, with Sniper following behind him. The crooning of a recent upcoming French star played on his new radio, accompanying him on the long drive.

There were benefits to knowing things about Mann Co. They were lenient about things. They certainly did not track his movements every time he decided to leave the base for more than twenty-four hours, something he had never figured out with Sniper before. He even learned about some of the newer technologies, had a new radio installed in his car, and looked up what was new in Paris.

How strange it was to search for things on an intangible system of a computer that could connect him to France. He could look for anything, and he managed to download some music from it. That was after he ensured the assistance of some youth who hung around the library, who had a nasty know-it-all attitude and a strong belief in computers being integral to life.

The songs he found now played in the radio. Some of it he liked, some of it just played to give him company. It would be quiet otherwise, so he tolerated this new confangled music.

 

Spy was just looking for a place with decent smokes. He did not expect the BLU Demoman to be looming about in the liquor store. It made sense for him to do so, but at the same time it seemed off.

On the glass door was a poster of the RED team though. He felt a small bit of relief to see that the drunkard had not noticed. But given enough time somebody would notice it, the poster would not be able to stay.

He approached the front counter and spoke to the man in a low voice, “Excuse me, I think you might have a problem with the door.”

“What? What problem?” the man peered past the counter to the door, “I don’t see a problem.”

“The poster needs to be removed,” the Spy insisted.

“What poster?” the man looked over at the door with a puzzled expression. With all the posters on the door, the man should have seen what he was talking about, easily.

“Spy!” he flinched when he heard the Scotsman’s voice.

He did not turn, as he lowered his voice and spoke through his teeth, “You need to take that poster down before something happens here.”

“Something happens?” the man blinked at him, stunned by the insinuation of something wrong.

“Spy, what’re you doin’ lad?” the Demoman clapped him on the shoulder.

Spy tensed up, thinking over his next words and his next move. He had not thought about what he would do if he had to handle an issue with one of the other mercenaries. He was just lucky it was the drunk on his team, not the enemy team, and not somebody capable of catching on quicker. He could not imagine being able to handle somebody from the RED team, or being able to get the reality past Medic or Engineer.

“You here for smokes?” the Scot asked, before turning his attention to the man behind the counter. He frowned, looking between the two. “You harassing this guy?” he asked Spy.

The man threw a thumb at the door, “Your pal was askin’ about-”

Spy hissed and shook his head a little, trying to silence the man. Dammit, he thought. He had no way of setting the wheels turning in his favor.

Demo was quiet for a little while, looking between each man. Finally, he patted Spy’s shoulder, “Come on, mate. Let’s have a talk outside.” He threw a bill on the counter and pointed at the shelves, “Get ‘im his favorite.”

Spy indicated which pack he wanted before he followed the Demoman outside. He lit himself a cigarette and turned to offer one to Demo. The man waved off the offer, taking a swig of his whiskey.

Spy tried to think of how to get the man to leave the area, “I think we had b-”

Demoman waved him to silence, “I know what you’re doin’ mate. I ‘preciate it, but it’s not necessary. Been doing this for o’er twenty years now. Miss Pauling told me you knew, but I didn’t think you’d assume handler position.” The Scotsman chuckled, shaking his head.

“What are you talking about?” Spy looked at him, amazed that the man had gone from halfway to the floor drunk to sober within the way he talked.

“You!” Demoman motioned to the door, “Don’t bother the man. Here’s where the others can’t come to. That poster? That’s advertisement. The company pays for it.”

“I…” Spy glanced at the door. He was halfway between acting like he already knew this and acting like he did not understand what he man was talking about.

“I’m the handler, lad,” Demo explained, “I know everything o’ what’s going on. Pauling told me you knew now…surprised it took ya. Suppose two unexpecteds find out has made them think about it. But don’t worry, the others can’t come here. It’s beyond the reaches of their contracts.”

“You already know,” it was not a question, it was a statement. It could not be unthinkable that Spy would be surprised about the drunkard knowing about everything, still he wanted to keep his aloof posture.

“I’ve known from the beginning,” Demo sighed, “Is nice ta know that a few more know.”

“You’ve kept this secret a long time then,” Spy noted.

“Work requires it, lad!” Demo said defensively.

“Admirable,” Spy rolled his eyes.

“Come off it,” the Scot growled, “It’s not like I wanted to! When the Miss Paulin’ came to me, I was about ready to shake her ‘til her head popped off and tell you all what a right git the Administrator’s been!”

“Sounds about right,” the Spy let out a chuckle.

“You took it well though,” Demoman looked him up and down.

“But of course,” Spy shrugged.

Demo shook his head, “You wouldn’t believe it. I spent near two weeks in a bin. They had to lock me up to keep me from slammin’ back to base in one of their vehicles, and tellin’ everybody that would listen!”

“Who would have?” Spy asked.

“Fair point,” Demo chuckled, pausing to take another swig of his whiskey, “And that’s the logic they gave me to calm me down. Then Miss Pauling played it straight out for me. Said we didn’t have money to keep the respawn runnin’ if we didn’t have jobs.”

He reached over and took Spy by the shoulder. He pointed the bottleneck into Spy’s face. Spy winced, wanting to pull away as the drunkard’s alcohol drenched hand was ruining his suit jacket. Seemed that even off the battlefield, in such a public place, there were hazards to his beloved attire.

“And we wouldn’t have jobs without this gig,” Demo finished his thought.

“Yes, I know,” Spy brushed the man’s hand off of his shoulder, “I didn’t need it told to me to understand all of that.”

“Figures,” Demo chuckled, “You’re smart one. Smarter than Sniper.”

“You sell yourself short,” Spy offered, drenching his tongue with as much false authenticity as he could manage, “And Sniper has his moments.”

“Not stupid that one,” Demo offered, “But, I remember havin’ to handle the questions.” He shook his head at the memory. “You were the worst back then.”

“What are you talking about?” Spy gave him a warning glare.

“Always talkin’ about how the Sniper disappeared! How he’d vanished! And all I could get from Miss Pauling was that they were lookin’ for him! What a nasty turn of events. I thought you woulda pulled that knife on me if I didn’t keep up lyin’ about what I knew.”  
“I nearly did,” Spy noted, remembering that time as it came back to him, “What did you know?”

Glenn had been gone for near a work week. He never thought to ask anybody else, he just did his own research. He sought out Sniper’s girlfriend, but could not find any information on her. Apparently the man did not have anything but a name on the girl.

The only teammate that showed any concern was Spy. There were a few who asked if anybody had seen him, but they generally shrugged it off. Only Spy had realized that it was completely abnormal, beyond the fact that they had a contract, for the Sniper to be missing along with his camper.

But the Demo was suspicious the whole time. He was usually the first to answer questions. He was the first to jump in when somebody inquired as to whether the Sniper had been seen. There was nobody else who seemed to know anything, but the Demoman claimed to have contact Miss Pauling, saying that they were looking into the situation.

“I only knew he was missing,” the Demo shook his head, “And as far as Miss Pauling? She just kept saying to keep you boys busy. Keep ‘em guessing. Keep them from asking too many questions or getting any ideas. Couldn’t risk ending up with two men missing from action.”

“I see,” Spy pulled the cigarette from his mouth and let out a long breath, “So, you’ve been the assigned handler all of this time?” It seemed ridiculous to think they would assign such a task to the team drunk, when the team’s Spy would have handled everything better.

“Yea,” Demo sighed, “Didn’t volunteer for it. Fact, I think I would prefer to go back when I didn’t know. Ignorance bein’ bliss and all.”

“I would not prefer that,” Spy stated, returning the cigarette to his lips.

“I don’t understand why you’d ever want to know about any of this,” Demoman shook his head, taking another deep swig, “This shit’s more drama than I can handle.”

“Makes me wonder what idiots are working at the top to have assigned the job to _you_ ,” Spy shook his head, then offered him an apologetic look, “No offense.”

“None taken!” Demo seemed rather pleased with the response, “I drink for a reason. I don’t like knowin’ things that are beyond my power, ya know. I prefer it this way.”

“I prefer to know,” Spy stated, “Not knowing is a kind of bliss afforded by the lower intellectuals.”

“Sounds about right,” Demo chuckled and shook his head.

There was a long silence. Demoman drank his whiskey and Spy finished his smoke. When he was finished with that one, he lit another. He could afford all of the smokes he could want. There was no need for an end to it. 

“So, you going lookin’ for a fight on that uh…issue with the Soldier?” Demoman asked.

Spy flinched, taken aback by the way the man was talking. He gave the Demoman a questioning look.

“Don’t take it harshly lad, I got your back,” Demo stated. Spy rolled his eyes when he remembered that the Demoman already knew of his affair with Andrew. “How d’ya think I knew?”

“You were informed?” Spy felt a bit alarmed.

Demo laughed, “I wish! They rely on the handlers for information! I got to tell them when shit goes down, and they give me orders to deal with you fellas.”

“Seems like the kind of thing they should have uh…I dunno, assigned to somebody with skills in lying and manipulation,” Spy stated, with a nasty tone.

“Yea,” Demomaurn chuckled at him, “Apparently that almost went sour a few different teams before us.”

“What do you mean?” Spy raised an eyebrow at him.

“There are a lot of teams,” Demo explained, “And it turns out that even our sector’s RED team had that problem.”

“The RED Spy,” he clicked his tongue, “So he not only knows but handles the RED team.”

“Indeed he does,” Demo nodded, “Meet with him once every couple of months to discuss.”

“And these meetings, you discuss what exactly?” Spy asked.

They went on talking of the teams and what had been going on behind the scenes for all of these years. There was not much that Spy did not already know about, but it was interesting to hear what the Demoman had to say about it. It was a whole different perspective, seeing and hearing everything with the perspective of somebody who had to keep a show going. It was a war that could not end, a show that must go on no matter the injuries.

 

*********************************************************************

 

When they got partway through the states, train become colder than Andrew remembered. He had passed out during the hot part, and woken up from the BLU Medic and RED Engineer nudging him. They had been talking amongst themselves, deciding that it was too cold for him to be sleeping there without a blanket or jacket on.

They arrived and unloaded themselves onto an unexpected platform. It did not look like someplace that would be near a base. Rather it turned out this was a supply restock area. They would be here for a while, so they were escorted to a waiting area inside a large building, where the employees who stocked the trains would take their breaks.

After a couple of hours, some Mann Co personnel arrived with papers and new uniforms in tow. They had the mercenaries sign a three-month contract that ensured they would be on the base for the duration of that contract, a probationary type of contract that would test them and whether they were worthy of remaining on the site.

After signing, not bothering to read much of those long paragraphs, Andrew sat down with his head in his hands and waited. It was a very long wait that ended with the Pyros mimicking his posture, except they were suited up in their fire suits.

After several more hours of Scout complaining loudly about the cold, they finally loaded back onto the train. The train moved off and Andrew fell asleep again. He could not believe that he found it so easy to doze off on a train of all things. It did not seem like the kind of vehicle that would permit so easily.

 

“Let’s get prepared,” the BLU Soldier’s voice called Andrew out of sleep. He jumped to his feet, completely at attention and nodded to the BLU Soldier.

Every mercenary slowly started opening the black packs they had been given, which were supposed to hold their uniforms. When Andrew opened the black bag, he was surprised to find that his uniform was not red, it was blue. He would have stared at it, but it was time to get dressed into warmer clothes and get ready for disembarking. He quickly put on the BLU team attire, briefly smoothing it out before he sat down.

He looked across the train car to where the BLUs were supposed to be sitting. The other Soldier was now dressed in a red uniform, contrasting against the blue uniforms around him. The only other man also dressed up in a BLU uniform on Andrew’s side of the car was the Heavy.

“Heavy is now BLU team?” the Russian man looked to Andrew, “And so is little Soldier.”

“I...you must have gotten the wrong uniforms boys,” the RED Engineer said, motioning to Andrew, “You should just switch the uniforms. You’ll be fine.”

“No,” the South American Heavy stated, “I read the contract. They switched us Heavies.”

“Is…” the Russian Heavy hesitated, glancing between the other Heavy and the floor between his feet.

“Nothing was specified, but I think it does not matter,” the other Heavy said, stepping towards the RED team, “I look forward to working with my new team.” He paused, turning to the BLU Medic. “It has been a pleasure,” he shook the Medic’s hand and exchanged a brief set of goodbyes with the others.

Soldier paused when he realized that Engineer was still next to him. He turned to the man to see him quickly shuffle away, turning his shoulder to Soldier. He seemed off.

“It has been an honor,” Andrew saluted, hoping that Engineer might turn around and face him soon.

When the man did not turn around, the Spy stepped forward and clapped Andrew on the shoulder, “It has been fun, sí? I will see you around.” He gave Andrew a playful wink.

“Yes yes, how nice,” the RED Medic interrupted.

Everybody started to turn to the Medic, when the RED Demoman laughed, “Just ignore him. We’re all still family, you know. Soldier?” Andrew turned to see the Demoman holding his hand out for a shake.

He hesitated only briefly, before shaking the Demo’s hand. He smiled back at the man, before he became surrounded by RED teammates who wanted a handshake. He shook each man’s hand in succession, even the Heavy’s. With very little else said, him and Heavy stepped to the other side of the car, exchanging brief salutes and greetings to the other Soldier and Heavy in passing.

“Welcome to the team,” the BLU Medic greeted Andrew with a smile.

“It will be a pleasure working with new Medic,” the Heavy said, with an awkward smile.

The BLU Medic gave him a big smile, “It will be a pleasure indeed, my friend. I liked my teammates, but I like the new ones as well.”

“So, back on the BLU team?” the BLU Spy stepped into the conversation, “How does it feel?”

“You shut up, baguette!” Andrew shook a finger at the man.

“No offense meant, mon ami,” the Spy raised both hands, defensively, “We are teammates now. No need for anger.”

The car ride was spent in relative silence for Andrew. The others were bustling about busily though. The Heavy was talking quite excitedly with Medic, as it seemed their friendship was stronger than Andrew originally thought. He was glad for them, they were good friends, even if the Heavy had made things awkward for a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated a lot of shuffling for these fellas. I ended with the decision that only a couple should be changed. Andrew - because it was requested by BLU Spy. Heavy - because the issues happening with Nazi Medic were reported and Pauling used the move as an opportunity to shuffle the poor bastards around.


	35. Old Friends and New Ones Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier and crew are meshed with the old timers.  
> Soldier doesn't do very well at meeting up with everybody.  
> In fact, Medic is the first to realize that he is not doing well at all.

The train came to a stop and the door slid open. Everybody stood at attention for a while, as the BLU Spy and the RED Engineer talked to somebody outside of the car. It was a long while before they were allowed to file off of the train car. Andrew was glad to move about on his feet, without the ground beneath him moving.

When he hopped out, he was surprised to see the RED Spy. Not the Italian one, the French one. It was the man he hated. It was that Spy who had him sent to Mexico, who ratted on him and ruined everything. Thinking about it, he wanted to wring the man’s neck.

“SOLDIER!” the voice was so loud he almost did not recognize it.

He got swung around on a Scotsman’s arm, as his old friend pulled him into a one-armed hug. His helmet flung off and he blinked up at the Demoman. He could not believe that he was looking at one fo his old teammates. It was amazing to think that he was here with the old BLU team. At least, he hoped it was the old BLU team. Was it not?

“Hey! How about a drink for old time’s sake?” the man offered him his usual British whiskey, which Andrew threw back before clapping him on the shoulder, “See! There’s the man! I knew you’d not be changin’ much!” Demoman laughed with glee.

“Good to see you!” Andrew laughed.

“You know him?” the BLU Medic tapped his shoulder.

“Yes I do,” Andrew paused to pick his helmet back up and place it on his head, “It’s good to be back!”

“Back?” the Medic and the Heavy both looked stunned.

“Seems the Soldier has been reunited with his old team,” the Spy noted.

“Shut up Spy!” Andrew spat. He was not really thinking when he spoke, just throwing out the same things he always said to the Spies.

“Let’s get you lads back to base,” Demoman chuckled, “We’ll be sortin’ things out eventually. But it seems you have an in between.”

“An in between?” Andrew raised an eyebrow at him.

“An in between!” the Demoman nodded.

“You know both teams,” the Medic replied, “Means perhaps you can help us get to know this new team.”

“Ohoho! You’ll have no problems boys!” Demoman laughed, “Let’s get back to base, throw down some drinks and get ready for the morning!”

Andrew hesitated. They were joining the old BLU team. That meant a lot of things. The first thing on his mind were the people he knew that would not react well to people like the Heavy. And what would the RED Spy do to the Spies in love. Electricity ran under his skin as alarms went off in his head. He could not think of what to say about it though.

“Something wrong, Andrew?” the Demoman asked, hesitantly.

“No,” Andrew said hastily.

“Let’s go,” Demo threw his thumb at the truck he brought, “Let’s load up!”

 

The ride to the base was surreal. Nothing was the same of course. It was not really his old base. Everybody else was chattering wildly, but he was sitting on the wheel well thinking. He felt he had a lot to think about. He had been gone so long, so he was not sure if anything would be the same amidst his teammates.

He wondered if everything would be the same. Was the BLU team losing still? Was the BLU team on top now? What was the new Soldier like? And what was the Spy up to?

That part made him pause and hold his breath. He could not guess what the Spy would have done. Maybe the Spy moved on and found somebody else. He could not imagine who he would have found, but perhaps his heart moved on from Andrew. Maybe he even moved on from the old team. Maybe he was not even around anymore.

That made Andrew sad to think about. He did not want to think about being around the same old team without Spy around. He did not want any Spy around, he wanted his Spy. He wanted the man he called Jacques.

When they arrived, they were not particularly greeted with a party, but they did find the recreation room filled with mercenaries having a small drinking get together. The men seemed a bit surprised by the new team, raising cups and glasses to greet them. They were invited right in, especially by Demo, who went straight to his makeshift bar.

“It will be a pleasure to work with another Medic,” he heard the BLU Medic say. He turned to see the Medic who put his first uber implant into his chest.

The man was huge compared to this littler Medic. They were amazingly different in size and complexion. The smaller of the two had softer features, and slightly wilder dark brown hair. The taller of the two relied more on his glasses to see than the other, adjusting them on his nose to get a better look at the other man. He had a strict pose of formality, holding a business-like air about him that Andrew almost missed.

“Mmhm,” the taller Medic did not shake the hand offered to him, seeming a bit disinterested. He was taking in the entirety of the team, with curious blue eyes.

“Long time no see, eh doc?” Andrew smiled, hoping to make his old Medic seem a bit friendlier to the now disgruntled Medic.

“What? Oh, Soldier,” the Medic did a double take, looking him up and down, “I’m surprised to see you back here. It’s been a few years has it not?”

“Yup! Now we’re all on the same team now!” Andrew announced.

“Oh great, another safety hazard,” he heard a familiar groan. He turned to see the Engineer.

The man’s look of despair quickly turned into one of humor as he headed over to Andrew and gave him a pat on the back. He shook his head at him.

“Good to see you too Engie,” he chuckled, glad to see the man still had his sense of humor.

Engineer laughed, “Let’s get some beers. I’m sure you’re probably thirsty from such a long trip!”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy watched from a corner as per usual. The only difference was that he was using his invis watch to keep himself hidden. He did not understand why he felt so frightened. His heart was pounding in his ears, he was so unsure of himself. He could not decide how to go about meeting Andrew again. He could only watch from the corner.

He was watching, when the other Spy approached Andrew. The Frenchman seemed weirdly friendly with Andrew, like they were very close. Andrew did not react well though. The man was gruff and snappy at every turn.

Everybody else took it as the man was trying to keep the Spy at arm’s length. His behavior spoke of frustration with the Spy. But having been close to Andrew, he knew that the man was not good at lying. He would have thought of being rude to somebody he was too close with. It was likely that this other Spy did not have the heart to tell him it was a bad idea or something, or the man was double bluffing.

He watched on with a growing burn in his chest. It hurt more than anything he had experienced in a long time. It felt like his wounds were being reopened. And he did not loathe anybody more than that damn Spy.

 

“What’s with you?” Sniper asked, as Spy approached the camper.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Spy pulled out a cigarette.

“I didn’t see you in the rec room,” Sniper stated, gesturing a request for a cigarette.

“I was there,” Spy growled, as he handed a cigarette to the other man.

“Oh really?” Sniper pulled out a lighter and used it for his and Spy’s cigarettes.

Spy huffed as he took a deep drag. He needed to let off some steam, but Sniper was likely not the best person to talk to about this. He was not the type to understand the situation. He likely did not have any experience with this either, so he would not have a feel for what Spy was going through.

“Come on, Spy,” Sniper motioned to him, “Tell me what’s up.”

“Maybe another time,” Spy let out a lungful of smoke, “Right now I just need to smoke in silence.”

“Fine, fine,” Sniper shook his head, “Though, I kinda wanted to let you…uh…know about something.”

“What about?” Spy plucked his cigarette from his mouth and looked at it.

“W-well,” Sniper hesitated with an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing that,” Spy looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Doing what?” Sniper chuckled nervously.

“That sound,” Spy smirked at him, “It’s that sound you make when you’re nervous about something.”

“That’s embarrassing,” Sniper rubbed his face, trying to hide the red on his cheeks.

“Don’t be,” Spy chuckled.

“What? Why?” Sniper looked at him with surprise.

“It’s adorable,” Spy noted, “Melisa probably loves that about you.” He suppressed a wry grin when Sniper’s face got redder. How fun it was to mess with him, now that certain things were out in the open. “Go on,” he said, motioning for him to continue.

“Well, it’s about Melisa actually,” Sniper stated, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

“What about her?” Spy pressed.

“She’s…” Sniper took a deep breath and removed his cigarette from his mouth, “She’s pregnant.”

Spy flinched with surprise. This was the last news he had expected. He was not sure what he expected. Of course he had warned Sniper years ago about the woman getting pregnant, but perhaps it was only a matter of time.

“Congratulations,” he put on a pleased expression. He would not let anything hold his friend’s happiness back. All he could do was be supportive of his friend.

Sniper smiled in that cute little dopey way he did. It was like a dog that was being patted unexpectedly on the head. “Thanks, Spy,” Sniper said, “Means a lot coming from you.”

“I know,” Spy chuckled, haughtily.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was not sure what he expected. Of course, Medic went to work in his chest, digging out the RED uber to replace it with a BLU one. And when he finished with just a half hour left for Andrew to get onto the battlefield. They had to hurry to the battlefield.

On the upside, the Medic was worried about his uber possibly getting shaken out of place or Andrew getting too badly hurt before it set in properly. So, the Medic stuck to him like glue. All day, the Medic paid close attention to keeping the Soldier healed. He did not die once all work day.

Eventually, it got tiresome to have the Medic on his tail all day. He tried to shake him off in favor of his smaller cohort. The other smaller German was busy making up for a missing Medic, skipping between the two BLU Heavies available for healing. Neither of the Heavies _seemed_ to mind.

But, towards the end of the fighting day, Andrew lost Medic. But, this was not his doing. Rather, a RED Soldier came shooting in with a rocket launcher. Andrew managed to launch himself away, but could do nothing about the exploded Medic. He retreated into one of the many buildings in order to take a breath.

That was when he ran into BLU Spy. The man hesitated, blushing when he realized that it was Andrew.

“Forgive me, mon ami,” the man smirked, “Was looking for mon cher.”

“I don’t know what in the world you are talking about, but get outta my face!” he shoved the BLU Spy aside, before he spun to face him, “And I’m not your friend! You baguette munching asshole!”

“I try to be friends,” the Spy said, putting on an apologetic expression, “But you continue to push me away.”

“I don’t want to be friends!” Andrew raised his voice angrily.

“You haven’t even given me a chance,” the Spy sighed.

“I will continue without giving a chance!” Andrew said, with frustration. He put some distance between himself and the Spy.

“I just want to be friends,” the Spy followed after him, “And we’re on the same team now. Should we not work together?”

“No! I don’t want to be friends with you! I don’t want to be friends with a Spy!” he declared.

“Why?!” the Spy grabbed his shoulder, “Why won’t you? Give me a reason? Give me a real reason!”

“Why?” Andrew had to think, but his mouth was already moving. It was not that hard to come up with all of the poor qualities of a Spy. “Spies are sneaky little bastards! All of you un-American freaks with your tricky ways and your manipulative values! No boundaries any of you!”

He had to take a deep breath as he went on. He went on without thinking and wondered what he was going to do about the things he was saying. Not that he knew what he was saying, he just knew it was going to be bad. Nothing good ever came out of his mouth when he was not thinking. And to think he was saying all of these things to a Spy, to his face. Honesty is best policy, is it not? But, Spy had never really done anything to Andrew. If he looked back in the past four years they worked against each other, Andrew had probably not been stabbed once in the back.

There was only one real reason that he would not befriend the blue masked man. He would not befriend somebody who reminded him of a broken heart. He could not be around a BLU with a French accent, not like this.

By the time he was finished there were tears in his eyes. He was grateful for his oversized helmet – a standard issue Mann Co uniform helmet, no less. It hung so low it hid his eyes from view, but he still felt embarrassed by the thought that he was so easily brought to this point by a man in a blue suit. He needed to get away from him – he had done so well at staying away from him up to this point. But, now he could not stand it.

He stormed off, leaving the Spy in his dust. He needed to get out and fight. He was sure that a bit of fighting would take his mind off of it. Sure enough, it took his mind off of the whole thing long enough for him to forget the confrontation altogether. It just took a few rocket jumps and a few slams to RED heads to give him the forgetfulness he needed.

 

Everything went to hell once the Administrator announced their lose. BLU team had lost. What half of BLU team did not know was that when you lose in the woods, you face the consequences of the no quarter round. The humiliation round began and Andrew was quick to grab the unsuspecting Medic. It was barely in time too, as the RED Medic was already charging at him.

Their weapons were gone. Their hands were empty. They had no escape, and everything in their body was slowing down. It drove the Medic beyond the point of sanity.

“What the hell is this? What is this? No quarter? What the hell is this?” the Medic screamed in his ear.

“Shut up and run!” Andrew tugged on the man’s coat, pulling him along. He was growing tired though, and he could hear more REDs on their way.

“You have to be shitting me!” the Medic exclaimed over the sound of a Soldier’s rocket blast.

“Yo Soldier!” a familiar East American voice called out.

He turned just in time to see the RED Scout bear down on them. Only, he did not hit them. He faked it though, then laughed when the two of them flinched.

“Oh man! You should see the looks on your faces!” the young man laughed.

Andrew exchanged a look with Medic, who was panting heavily, with wide panicked eyes. The man wanted to bolt, but was just starting to settle with the idea that a familiar and trustworthy face had confronted them.

“What’s with you guys?” the Scout pointed between the two of them.

“This is no quarter round, son,” the Soldier puffed up his chest, “No mercy round. Winner takes no survivors.”

“No survivors?” the Scout hesitated, then he got a look like he knew what they were talking about, “Sounds a bit much.”

“I did not realize this was what they meant by a no quarter!” Medic announced with frustration.

“Yea um…” Scout swung his bat around and rested it on his shoulder, “I’m just gonna go. You guys…I’ll see you guys later. Buy me a beer and we’ll call it even. Kay?”

Soldier glanced at the Medic, “You aren’t going soft, are ya son.”

“No!” the Scout exclaimed, “It’s just…you guys…we’re still pals…I mean, we kill each other every day. But that look on your face. And you’re unarmed. Administrator didn’t say nothin’ about killing unarmed people.”

“I would agree to that sentiment!” the Medic stated eagerly.

“This is humiliation round,” Andrew explained, “Means the winner gets to humiliate the loser.”

“Just…I’m just gonna go,” the Scout took off without another word.

Andrew sighed with relief and grabbed Medic’s arm. He was about to take off, when several REDs came charging at them. There was the smaller of the two RED Medics to one area, the other RED Scout behind him, above was the RED Soldier who had been Andrew’s sworn enemy for over thirty years, and then there was the RED Engineer, the pal he met no more than four years ago.

He turned and charged out of the way of the Soldier’s landing. He threw the Medic aside, saving him from the humiliation but causing him to fall. There were still too many mercenaries when he turned around though, and he was quickly overwhelmed by a Boston youth’s bat and the Soldier’s shovel. Medic’s needle gun was nothing though. It had next to no effect on him.

Before he realized what was happening, the Soldier was over him, beating him with a shovel. Thanks to the helmet, he had yet to die. But thanks to the helmet, he had yet to have that quick escape from all of this. It _was_ humiliating.

But then the RED Soldier was not on top of him. There was a hand pulling needles _out_ of his skin. And then he was being partially hoisted off the ground and dragged out of the open.

“Doc, you alright?” the Engineer’s familiar voice hit his ears like sweet honey.

He heard a muffled sound, but nothing more. He peeled his eyes opened, looking up at the bright but fading light of the sun. The Engineer’s goggled face appeared over his vision.

“You alright, Soldier?” Engineer asked.

He gave a muffled grunt and raised a hand to his face. It hurt terribly. His eye was already throbbing and the shock only barely settled into his back.

“You look like shit,” the Engineer gently touched his face.

“Kill me,” Andrew muttered.

“What?” Engineer sounded surprised.

“I won’t make it back without being attacked,” Soldier groaned, “Just kill me.”

“But…I…” Engineer sounded like he was in shock or something.

“Just do it,” Andrew raised his voice, “Get your shotgun, pull the trigger on my face.”

“I…” Engineer sounded shaky.

Soldier raised his head, trying to get a better look at the Engineer, “Gimme your gun.”

Engineer hesitantly handed it over. He paused as Soldier got his hand on the barrel. When the gun was not immediately relinquished, he tilted the barrel until it was pointed at his head. He grabbed Engineer’s hand and squeezed.

“Pull the trigger,” Andrew growled.

“No,” the Engineer shook his head, “I can’t do it.”

“That’s an order Soldier!” Andrew raised his voice.

“What a pathetic scene,” the RED Spy’s voice came around. It was the French RED Spy, the man that Andrew loathed. “You should really just honor his request,” the Spy stated.

“I’m not- you’re not-!” Engineer shouted, leaping to his feet. He had yanked the gun right out of Andrew’s hand, bringing it to face the Spy.

The next thing Andrew knew his head was a throbbing mess. He practically howled in pain. He woke up in spawn not remembering quite how it happened.

Everything felt very different. For a moment he forgot about the RED Engineer. He forgot about his new friends. He was back to his old habits, following his feet to the infirmary to see the Medic about new ointment, which he had run out of years ago. He came to the infirmary to find both men busily working. It was the smaller of the two men who shook him out of his stupor.

“Soldier, are you alright?” the taller Medic asked.

“Yes,” he hesitated, squinting at the two men, “I don’t feel right.” Something felt way off, especially when he looked at his friend – the man seemed like a stranger to him, even though in his head he knew him well.

“What is wrong?” the shorter of the two Medics pulled off his gloves as he approached, “Something I can help with?”

Andrew squinted at him, “Something does not seem right.”

“Tell me where it hurts,” the man said, putting a hand to his forehead, to feel for a fever.

“It does not hurt,” Andrew stated, “But there is something off.”

“Well, I’m not sure how to help you, if you do not indicate a problem,” the Medic shrugged.

The other Medic turned and approached. He took Andrew’s head and shined a light into his eyes. Andrew blinked, trying to pull away from the invading light.

“Have you been having hallucinations?” the Medic asked, putting the little flashlight into his pocket.

“A lot,” he hesitated, as he thought back. He had not noticed it before, but now that he thought about it, he had been having a lot of black outs and hallucinations lately. “I think they have increased recently.”

“And did you just come out of respawn?” he asked, bending to Andrew’s level as he studied him.

Andrew nodded, “Mmhm. Yes.”

“Good heavens! Hallucinations? Black outs?” the other Medic exclaimed with surprise, “You never mentioned these before!”

“They would be in his medical profile,” the other Medic turned to look at him.

“He wasn’t my doctor,” Andrew stated, pulling the taller man’s attention back to him.

“This Soldier was on RED,” the other Medic explained, “They recently switched him to BLU. So I suppose that…” he got a disgustedly disgruntled look about him as he spoke, “ _Nazi_ filth would have been the one treating him.”

“I did not receive treatment,” Andrew stated firmly.

“I see,” the taller Medic straightened his back with a sigh, “Well, we will have to keep an eye on him.” He headed over to his cabinet of medicines. “Have you been taking anything lately? Any narcotics that I should know about?”

“Him? On narcotics?” the other Medic exclaimed with disbelief.

“Is just a formality to question,” the taller Medic stated, “One never knows.”

Andrew shook himself, feeling dizzy, “How does one tell the difference between you two?”

“What?” both Medics looked at him with stunned expressions.

“How do I tell you apart?” he asked.

They gawked at him, until the taller of the two spoke up, “I would think the differences would be obvious. We’re German, but not twins.”

“I should say not!” the other man stated.

Andrew shook his head, “I know which one of you is which! But I know you both as Medic. How do I tell you apart?”

The Medics raised their eyebrows at each other. They had not been approached with this issue as of yet, and it puzzled them. The shorter of the two spoke up.

“Alhwin,” he stated.

“What?” Andrew gave him a perplexed look.

“My name is Alhwin,” he explained, “So call me that.”

“I just call ‘em Doc and Medic!” a familiar voice came in through the doors.

He turned to see the big crooked grin of a cute little Massachusetts kid that used to pester him. He could not help but smile when he saw the youth, reminded of all the annoying times, but thinking on them with fondness. He had forgotten about the kid, and seeing him now, he realized he had missed him.

“Good to see you, Solly!” the Scout grinned broadly, “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Andrew lied.

“Hallucinations and black outs are not fine,” the unnamed Medic approached Andrew to put a bottle of pills in his hand, “Take one of these with breakfast in the morning and with dinner at night before bed. Take them with food, don’t take them with an empty stomach. They are useless if you throw them up.”

Andrew turned the bottle in his hand until he could see the lettering. Not that he could read it very well. There were scribbled notes that were too illegible to tell if they were English or German. Even the part that was printed was difficult for him to read because it was a big and important word. He was not sure where to start with pronouncing the drug’s name.

“Having flash backs again, Solly?” Scout grabbed his shoulder, giving him a consoling squeeze.

“Just black outs and hallucinations,” Andrew blushed, shying away uneasily. He did not like the Scout knowing about his problems – he did not want the boy to feel too much concern for him.

“Eh…how do you treat something like that?” Scout asked.

The taller Medic shook his head, “It is difficult to treat. But this should help with any chemicals causing the problem. After a few weeks, I would like to see what the results are.”

“Is that why you kept seeing red, Soldier?” Alhwin cut in. Andrew glanced his way but turned his eyes to his feet. “You were blacking out?”

The taller Medic laughed, “Usually happens on the battlefield. Makes for a good round, usually.”

“It’s been mostly out of battle…recently,” Andrew argued.

“Really?” the taller Medic sounded surprised.

Alhwin chortled, “Beat the shit outta the RED Medic.”

The Medic and the Scout turned to him, “Wha?”

Andrew turned on his heel to face the Scout, “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m hungry, and I ain’t gonna take these on an empty stomach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medic is like a doting mother hen when it comes to his patients.


	36. A Broken Heart Not That Easy to Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper tricks Andrew and Jacques into confronting each other.

Spy paced the smoking room with unease. He had spent the first work day stalking Andrew. For the most part it was easy, given the Medic kept him from rocket launching off. That was partially because the man was actually concerned about his implant, but mostly because he was fighting with the Heavy. Being they were close friends, the Medic focusing on the new Heavy was out of the question. So, he had chosen to stick to Andrew during the duration of the day.

There was one part where the Medic was dead and Andrew was alone. And that had revealed something about the man’s relationship with the Spy. Whatever had gone on in the past four years, it had hardened Andrew’s heart to Spies. In spite of every whole hearted attempt to be kind to Andrew, the other BLU Spy received only contempt.

He had so much anger to unleash. He could only imagine what would happen if it was him that had confronted him. The man might have built up some frustrated thoughts about him over the years. What if he hated his guts now? He could never face Andrew like that.

 

*********************************************************************

 

After a call from Melisa, it was confirmed in Sniper’s mind that something was wrong. After she watched their meeting with the new team, as well as those first few days working together, she could see there was something off. She did not even recognize the Soldier on the screen. He had to reassure her a few times that it was the very same Soldier.

He went hunting for Spy. The man was lurking around somewhere. He never showed his face to the others after work. He just seemed to vanish, until he came to find Sniper later. But, Sniper needed to find him sooner rather than later.

He was doing a quick sweep of the corners of the recreation room when he caught the view of the invis watch, after bumping his clothes. Spy was quiet, hoping to get away with invisibility.

Sniper lowered his voice, “Meet me outside now.” He glanced around, until his eyes came to land upon Spy’s Soldier. “We need to talk.”

Without another word he left the recreation room. The new teammates were getting used to him now, though once in a while one of them would try to invite him to stay. The would learn eventually that Sniper typically kept to himself and invited himself to drinking parties when he so desired.

He moved beyond, ignoring all invitation to join them. He had a mission and thus had to be sure Spy saw him walking straight out of the recreation room. Come on Spy, he urged the man with his mind. He merely wished Spy would hasten out of the rec room, so they could talk about the Soldier and why the Spy was ignoring him, or rather avoiding him.

He spun to see the man decloak, “What is it, Glenn?” He paused to light a cigarette, “I’m doing reconnaissance on the new team.”

“It can wait,” Sniper growled. He hated it when Spy used his name around the base.

“What’s so important then?” Spy growled with irritation.

“Wasn’t all of this supposed to be to bring back your Soldier?” Sniper asked, with a bit of exasperation in his voice.

Spy hesitated, giving him a disgruntled look, “I’m working out the details.”

“What details? Go talk to him now!” Sniper exclaimed with irritation.

“I cannot do that at this time,” Spy said sternly. He pulled his cigarette from his mouth to blow the smoke.

“Well, you’re not making any progress hiding in the corner!” Sniper scoffed with disbelief.

Spy sighed with frustration, but put on this aloof expression as he looked at his cigarette. “You do not know what you are talking about,” Spy replied.

“I know a great deal about what I am talking about,” Sniper snapped, “And I’m getting really sick of being demeaned like this. I ain’t gonna listen if you aren’t gonna give my thoughts a try. I have more to say on the matter, so you better listen!”

“I don’t need this right now,” Spy said, putting out his cigarette to light another.

“No, you really do,” Sniper argued, “You need to hear this. Cause I’m your friend. And I care what happens to you, and what’s going on with you. You’ve been moping about for four years now. And now he’s here! And you’re still moping about! You need to get your ask back in there and this time approach him.”

“No,” the Spy said simply.

“What?” Sniper felt taken aback.

“You heard me,” Spy glared at him, “I said no.”

Sniper sighed, “Fine, if that’s how you’re going to be, then fine.” He headed off to his camper, stomping his feet like he was mad.

He was not mad. He could not be mad. It was clear to him that Spy was hurting, but for whatever reason of cowardice, he was not willing to confront the Soldier to bring him back into his life. That was going to change, whether Spy liked it or not.

 

Sniper chose Friday to make his move. He wanted there to be plenty of time for whatever would happen. All he had to worry about now was getting Spy and the Soldier together in a safe environment without any people around.

He approached Soldier in the morning, as they were preparing in the locker room. He had thought about note dropping, but had forgotten already which Soldier’s locker was which. He could not afford mixing up the pair.

“Hey there, Soldier,” the Sniper offered him a smile.

The Soldier stopped, staring at what he could see from under his helmet. Slowly but gradually he pushed the helmet up with a thumb, until he could see all of Sniper. His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened with astonishment.

“Sniper? Glenn? It’s you?!” Soldier exclaimed.

Sniper chuckled awkwardly. This was much too close to the other mercenaries to be using names, “Yea. We’ve been working together all week now. Haven’t you seen me? We all meet in respawn.”

Soldier rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve uh…I’ve not been doing well lately. Haven’t been paying much attention to who all is here.”

It clicked in Sniper’s mind and he smiled. Poor bastard was known to not have the best memory or the best set of mental skills. It was likely he would be just as surprised to see Spy there.

“I was hoping we could hang out after work,” Sniper said, “Bring a couple beers. Trust me, you’re gonna love what I have to show ya.”

Soldier grinned with delight at the invitation, “I will be there!”

With a nod, Sniper proceeded to his locker. He watched out for Spy, unsure of where he was. He did not like the idea that the man might have watched him invite Soldier along. He wanted this to be a surprise to some degree. He was relieved when the Spy came in through the door, following the other Spy. The two did not look like they liked each other, but they were exchanging some information.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy eyed Sniper curiously. The man was glancing around nervously. His nervous glancing was especially focused on him.

He would have been in here sooner, but the other Spy had stopped him. He wanted to introduce himself, giving a false name so they could better address each other. He himself used the name Jacques, because why not? The other chose to go by Réne.

The man was especially useful for bits of information. The new RED Engineer was awkward at times and could fumble if you caught him at the right moment. The new RED Heavy was not as strong as most of his counterparts. And then there was that Medic, a man hated by colleagues and enemies alike – as apparently he was a Nazi and an asshole.

“Spy,” Sniper beckoned to him. At first Réne thought he might be talking to him, but quickly got the picture and moved on. Spy approached him, to find a mischievous twitch to the man’s expression. “I got something to show ya,” Sniper stated. Oh no, Spy thought with dread. “Meet me after work at the camper.”

“Why don’t you come inside?” Spy said, in an irritated monotone voice.

“I can’t,” Sniper was suppressing a chuckle or something, “It’s out by my camper. And I’m gonna show it to ya after work.”

“Fine,” Spy sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

Spy sighed as he headed off to prepare for the day. He pondered what it could be that Spy wanted to show him. His closest guess had something to do with Melisa’s pregnancy. Maybe he had already gotten around to finding a crib for the child and setting up the nursery. Maybe he finally bought a new camper, specially meant for taking his baby on camping trips.

It made him smile to think of Sniper as a dad. His friend would make a great dad. He wondered what that made him. In Australian culture, would that make him an uncle? He would like to think he would be something like that.

He wondered whether that was a weighing factor in Sniper’s desire for time in a cabin far away. Maybe he wanted to get away for a few years to raise his new child. That kind of hurt him now, thinking about how Spy would miss his friend and miss out on being that uncle figure.

He was relieved when the round came to its end. BLU lost, but he was already perched somewhere where the REDs would never look for him. Once the humiliation round was over, he hurried off to the respawn room to put his things in his locker. He would change his outfit before going to see Sniper, having had the thing ruined by a number of mercenaries’ blood spattering across it.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Sniper watched out for both the Spy and the Soldier. He had not thought this through as well as he had hoped. He was not sure why Spy was acting the way he was, but it was usually for a reason. That started to finally settle into the back of his mind.

When Soldier arrived first, with a case of beers, he was relieved. He smiled and pointed a thumb at his camper, “Hop in. I have something big to show ya.”

“Oh, what is it?” the Soldier asked, as he approached the camper’s side door.

“You’ll see, just hop in,” Sniper urged him.

Soldier climbed in with a shrug, and Sniper went to his driver side door. He just hoped Spy did not take too long. Sneaking out was a possibility, but he hoped that Spy would show himself like he should do.

Relief struck again when he saw the Spy from the halfway point between the base and the camper. He waved at Spy and then hopped into the camper. The Spy started running towards him, but he started up the old truck and got it running down the road. Having no other choice, Spy would have to grab his car to follow him.

Sniper chuckled to himself as he sped along the roads, hoping the quick chase would throw off the man’s suspicions. Spy liked to be suspicious. He liked to try and figure things out that he was not meant to know about.

“What the hell is going on?!” he heard the Soldier call from the back.

“You’ll see,” Sniper called back. He heard the man bump around in the back as he made a sharp turn.

He kept up speed for a while, before slowing down to the legal speed. Spy should be getting in his car soon. He would speed along the road to catch up. But Spy’s car had yet to appear in his side view mirrors.

He started to grow concerned that he might go too far, and Spy would just give up. He pulled over onto the side of the road and clambered out of the car. Spy had to be coming, so he would arrive soon enough.

He was stepping around the front of the truck, when Soldier came barreling out of the living quarters. He rounded on Sniper so fast that his helmet whipped off. The man’s face was flushed red as he snatched up his helmet. That was a weird sight to behold.

“Soldier, I have something to show you,” Sniper insisted, motioning to the door.

“What the hell is this all about?” Soldier demanded.

“It’s a surprise,” he insisted, “But you have to wait inside.”

“I’m not too keen on being fooled, Sniper!” the man raised his voice.

“I’m not too keen on being yelled at by a ticking time bomb of an idiot. So, why don’t you just step inside and sit down while we wait for it to come,” Spy growled.

Soldier glared at him, before he complied. There was something like curiosity in the man’s eyes, before he clambered into the camper. Sniper was glad that the door closed when it did, as Spy’s vehicle whipped around the last turn. It skidded across the pavement, while Sniper leaped out of the way.

It skidded to a halt just ahead of the camper truck. Spy did not even bother to kill the engine when he leaped out of the vehicle. He looked so frustrated that his silly face made Sniper chuckle a little. It was nice to rattle him once in a while, especially now that he realized how he could do that.

“What the hell is this?” the Spy demanded.

“Go take a look,” Sniper threw his thumb at the camper. In his other hand, he twiddled his keys.

Spy hesitated, giving him a suspicious glare. He started towards the camper with slow and deliberate steps. Sniper could feel the man’s eye on him, even though his eyes were focused on the camper. The Spy was good at keeping an eye on people without actually looking at them.

Once Spy opened the camper door, Sniper started quietly towards Spy’s car. He had not thought much of this through but he was not going to skip on a miracle. He smirked when he sat himself right into the seat. He crammed his knees in under the steering wheel and drove off before the Spy could say more than “stop!”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy did not get a chance to look into the camper when he heard Sniper open his car. Alarmed, he turned to see the lanky Australian stuff himself behind the wheel and slam the door. He became more concerned about the safety of his car than anything, knowing that the man would probably destroy his shifting gears.

“Stop! Come back!” he called out as the car peeled off. The man was determined to do something, but Spy was not sure what.

He turned back to the camper, curious as to what Sniper’s intentions were. There was something inside the camper, waiting for him to see. But as he turned around he heard someone stepping out of the now open door.

He watched from a cautious distance as a Soldier’s boots touched the concrete. Dread hit him as a big hand swung the door shut and Andrew appeared. Even with his face half covered in a helmet, Spy knew Andrew apart from any other Soldier. Panic began to set in, as the two stared at each other.

Spy was the first to finally clear his throat and speak, “I apologize…it seems the Sniper has ways of making jokes. And…thinking he can mend things…”

Andrew stepped slowly forward, moving towards him. He was not saying anything, but his face said enough. He was gawking with disbelief, as if at a ghost.

“I did not plan any of this,” Spy insisted, “I did not know he would do any of this.”

Andrew kept walking closer. He still said nothing, leaving an awkward silence to hang between them. Spy could not resist betraying himself in this silence.

“I had no part in this!” he raised his voice a little, “And he just left with my car…and the keys to the camper!”

Andrew sized him up, standing breast to breast, a mere inch apart. There was no telling what was going on within his eyes, as they remained hidden beneath an oversized helmet. When Spy reached up, Andrew’s hand shot out. Surprise ran through his body faster than the fist landed into his gut. Surprised, confused and dazed, Spy doubled over in the middle of the street.

“A week?!” Andrew roared, “A whole fucking week! And you’ve said nothing! You’ve not even shown your face! I didn’t even know if you were on the team anymore! Let alone if you were-” He cut off very suddenly, sniffling loudly.

“Soldier, give me a moment,” Spy groaned, trying to recover from the incident.

“You’ve had all week!” Andrew spat at him angrily.

He turned and stormed back down the street, following it the way the camper came. Spy forced himself upright and trotted after him. Being taller, he was faster on longer legs. He quickly caught up to Andrew by the time he reached the first bend.

“Listen, you don’t understand,” Spy pleaded with him.

“No! _You_ don’t understand!” Andrew flung an arm out when Spy tried to tap him. He kept on walking, avoiding looking at the Spy.

“At least give me a chance! One chance to explain!” Spy pleaded.

“You had chances!” Andrew exclaimed. He was so angry that Spy grew more desperate in his pleas. “You had all week!”

“I- you were- I was- I did- but you- I-” he stammered through uncertainty.

“I want to hear none of it!” Andrew growled angrily.

Spy sighed with frustration, “Just listen to me!”

“No, you listen!” Andrew rounded on him, “I just spent four years down in Mexico for who knows what. I don’t know what life you’ve lived. I don’t know what it’s been like for you. All I know is what has gone on for me, and after it all…I don’t deserve to be blown off for a week!”

“I didn’t blow you off for a week!” Spy pleaded. How do you tell somebody you had been spying on them the whole time? “You must believe me, Andrew,” he begged harder, “I had to wait until the right time.”

“Wait?” Andrew shook his head and started off again. He sniffled again, “Wait? I’ve been waiting. Waited four whole years for something to change. And you wanted to wait for what exactly? I’ve been waiting for my best friend to come back into my life.” He was still shaking his head as he thought about it all.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Spy pleaded, “Can we please just talk?”

“I need to be alone, right now,” Andrew stated, as he continued past the sharp bend.

 

Spy followed Andrew on foot all the way back to base. It was lucky Sniper had not gone too far. Spy could have gone back or stopped at some point, but he followed Andrew the whole way back. The man refused to look at him or talk to him anymore.

When Sniper arrived at the base, he drove Spy back to pick up the camper. On the drive there, Spy tore into him with a burning fury. He tore into him until he finally stormed out of the car to switch sides. He did not give the man an apology for being so cruel, nor did he explain the entirety of what took place between him and Andrew. All Sniper needed to know was that it went poorly and it was all his fault.

He stormed off to his room, feeling like everything was crashing down on him. At least before he did not have to deal with Andrew being that angry at him. And he punched him! He never thought Andrew could be capable of harming a friend like that. But, he supposed their friendship was long gone by now.

He came to a halt at the door to his personal chambers, when he found the other Spy lingering there. The man’s eyes jolted up to meet his and he pushed off the wall to greet him.

He spoke in French when he said, “Can we talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sniper probably should have stuck around to intervene at some point.


	37. Your BLU Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maurice pays Andrew a visit in the night, his heart is broken and shattered. He discovers what Andrew has been hiding for four years and acts on impulse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will wrap this story up in the next few chapters. I have decided to make a sequel to this story after I am done with it.  
> Same characters, new story line. I will link to it from this story when I get it started.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? It was never complicated before the Spy rolled in. Everything became even more complicated when he was sent down to Mexico. And now, he just wanted everything to be better? The Spy must have been out of his mind to think he could just pretend not to exist for a week, and then suddenly appear.

Did he ever plan to meet with him again? He had been partially ready to hug him the moment he saw Spy. But every moment the man spoke, Andew just felt his rage stoked. He did not even plan this, it was all Sniper. And seeing how the Australian had handled him, without any warning, he had become angry with him too. Part of him felt guilty that a lot of his anger was misdirected from the guilty Sniper to the Spy.

But after a week of not seeing him, the Spy finally showed up. It struck him when he realized that his Spy was still around. It was his Spy.

But, to think that he had been avoiding Andrew. He had not confronted him once. He had not snuck a moment, within many moments available, within private quarters or secret areas, to show or tell Andrew that he was there and alive. Spy was clever enough to do that, so Andrew doubted that was the problem.

He marched through the base to his room to lay down. His back hurt so bad. Being tossed around in that camper did a number on him, especially to his back. He laid on the bed for a while and contemplated what it would have been like if the confrontation had gone differently. Maybe he should not have punched Spy in the gut, but he felt so angry.

He was so angry, even now. To think the man willingly avoided him all week. Still, Andrew felt a lump in his throat thinking about how much he missed him. It would have been nice if they had just made up, but it would have been unfair.

How fair could it be to be ignored for an entire week? How fair was it that he had been told the man never even planned to tell him? It was very unfair, and forgiving him on the fly meant nothing to Andrew.

And how fair was it that he was still alone, dealing with his problems, and trying to keep his friends from being too concerned? It was very unfair. What could have been going through Spy’s mind to think it was okay to just avoid Andrew?

 

When he woke from his nap, he was startled by a small knocking sound. It did not come from the door, it came from the window. That was strange because Andrew’s room was on the second floor of the building.

He clambered off the bed to look out the window. He could not see anything out there though. He started to wonder if he had imagined knuckles on his window pane.

He decided to open the window, sliding it so he could let the air through the screen. The sound and smoke of a red decloak startled him. He watched as the RED Spy he remembered by ‘Maurice’ appeared.

“Can we talk?” the shadows of the evening hid several of his features, making it difficult to tell what his expression was.

“What are you doing here?” Andrew demanded, as he popped the screen off.

“Please please please, amico,” the Spy pleaded. Once he turned, the moonlight shone on his red eyes and the glint on his cheeks.

Andrew stared for the longest time, forgetting about the screen in his hands. He twiddled his thumbs for a while before he spoke, “What are you doing here?”

The Spy sniffed, pausing to brush the tears from his face with his hands, “I have nobody to talk to. I can’t talk to anyone on RED.”

“What about your BLU Spy?” Andrew asked.

Maurice shook his head, “I can’t…I can’t even…” New tears built up in his eyes and his body shook with a sob.

Andrew put it all together with a look of surprise, “But you…you broke up?”

Maurice nodded, his face contorting. He doubled over then crouched, apparently unable to stay upright much longer. His shoulders shook with more sobs.

Andrew carefully approached him and bent to lay a hand on his shoulder, “What happened between you two?”

Maurice sniffled loudly, “I don’t know! He just said…he…he just said that he needed to break it off with me. He wouldn’t explain it to me or tell me why! Just kissed my forehead and told me I would be okay. But I’m not! I’m not okay!”

Andrew crouched to his level, “Why did you come _here_ though?”

Maurice looked at him with open mouth, “Who else? I have no real amicos anymore. The people I thought were my friends have been swept up with this no mercy killing stuff and the propaganda here. I want to go back to Mexico.”

He buried his face in his arms across his knees as he sat down. The man shook, curled up in a ball like a pathetic child. It was painful to watch, as he fell apart.

“You know the worst thing?” Maurice raised his head again, “I actually got caught up in it all. I actually started to like it.” He met Andrew’s eyes with tears and sniffling. “Medic won’t even smile at me anymore. I killed him during the humiliation round the other day. It felt good. I was so overwhelmed…but I…but I…” He buried his face again.

Andrew rubbed his back, trying to be comforting, “Everybody gets caught up in the humiliation round. It is part of war. The losers respawn and get over it.”

“But I don’t think…I don’t think Réne got over it,” Maurice sniffled.

“Who’s Réne?” Andrew quirked an eyebrow curiously.

“My…m-my…” Maurice sniffled and trembled. He started speaking in Italian, sobbing through each word. His indistinguishable tongue meant nothing to Andrew, so he just quietly rubbed his back.

He could not believe that the other Spy had broken up with him. Of course, Andrew did not really know their relationship, but they always seemed so happy. They always seemed like they got along. They even stabbed each other in the back, just so the other mercenaries and cameras could see. It was obvious to Andrew that they loved each other though, the way they took care of each other’s fallen bodies after the stabs and shots, the way they looked at each other as prey.

This was not right. Maurice belonged with his BLU Spy. Just because he was a RED, did not mean he did not deserve love. Maybe even the other RED Spy would understand it.

Andrew looked at Maurice when that thought came to mind. No, he thought. That French asshole cannot be trusted.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy brought the other Spy into his smoking area, where they could talk. Having been given the opportunity to learn from past mistakes, he disabled all of the cameras in the room. A fellow Spy would not drop by to simply mingle.

“I hear from the Demoman…the one from your team…that you’re one of the teammates who knows,” the other Spy stated.

Spy hesitated. There was not much that needed to be said. Those who knew about the show did not need it spelled out, especially not Spy. Of course he nodded.

He lit himself a cigarette then offered a glass of something to drink, “Whiskey? Scotch? Bourbon?”

Réne raised his hand in refusal, “I am avoiding the drink.”

“Tell me then, what is this about?” Spy poured himself a small glass of scotch over ice.

“I’m sure we are both familiar with the Soldier I am talking about when I mention him?” Réne asked. There was a tone in his voice that pushed too hard for him not to know he meant Andrew, so he nodded. “I…have been wondering for a long time what your relationship with him was like. It’s strange to see that you just avoid him though. You don’t avoid everybody like that, just him. Isn’t that right?”

Spy held himself rigidly. He did not like where this line of interrogation was going. He did not like being interrogated in his own space. At least he could make use of knowing the space better than the other man.

“No need to hold up your defenses,” Réne said, with an offered shrug, “I am merely trying to understand the Soldier. You know the one. Blond? Blue eyes? Mind tends to wander? Tends to shout things a lot?”

He let the man’s words go on in silence. He decided to wait and see what he would do if he never responded. Perhaps he would just keep rambling.

“It seems,” Réne took a breath, “That the Soldier has gotten worse these past years. I’ve been watching him.”

There was a poignant silence as the Spy looked back at him, “I wanted to know the reason why he hates me. And I thought it was because of you. I wondered what you were like, but now I know it could not be.”

“And why, pray tell, would you watch him so closely?” Spy asked, with a thoughtful tone, “He was a RED, wasn’t he?”

“But of course,” the man chuckled, “That’s where…my position comes in. See, I handle the BLU team. _My_ BLU team. Now, I help the Demoman handle yours. But, it’s not hard to see when the RED handler gets a little too attached.”

“Who are you referring to?” he asked.

“You haven’t noticed?” Réne threw in a playful smile, “The RED Engineer is quite fond of that _particular_ Soldier. He was none too happy when your request had him moved to the BLU team again.” He put his hand over his mouth, with a playful look of surprise. “Oops, I’m not supposed to know about that, am I?”

Spy glared at him, “Get on with what you mean.”

“What I mean, is that I have seen the Soldier from the perspective of a handler. His handler wasn’t there making sure he was going to be fine. And now he’s in a bad position. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix the reason behind him not allowing me close enough to help him,” Réne explained, “And it can’t be you, can it? Perhaps you can shed some light on the topic?”

Spy hesitated, looking Réne up and down, “This topic? Regarding what? The Soldier’s mental issues?”

He immediately regretted what he said when Réne got a look of delight. He had walked right into the man’s trap. How had he not seen that trap coming his way?

“Most should be able to see it, should they not?” Réne asked, “But it seems that only Spies and those closest to him would know. What about a Spy who was very close to him?”

“Are you insinuating something?” he growled.

“Not at all,” Réne lifted his hands defensively, “I just thought that maybe there was a friendship once? A fight you two had? Or is it something else?”

“I’m not answering these questions,” he told him sternly, “And you won’t find anything more from me.”

“Fine, fine,” Réne waved it off dismissively, “But if you are or were friends…maybe you should pay attention to the new medication that the Medic has put him on.”

“Medication?” he raised an eyebrow at him.

“His hallucinations and black outs have gotten bad,” Réne explained, “And only worse. Respawn doesn’t seem to reset his brain. The Medic thinks he can fix him with chemicals, but we both know that when the respawn can’t fix it, it’s never meant to be fixed.”

The conversation ended like that. The man bowed himself out, stepping out of the smoking room without another word. Spy was left to breathe his own smoky air and contemplate what had just occurred. He had not been paying too close attention to Andrew’s mental state. He did not seem too off from what he could remember, unless he was not remembering quite right.

Worry jumped from his heart to his throat and he tossed the cigarette into an ash tray. He grabbed his invis watch, putting it on his wrist as he charged out the door. He needed to talk to the Medic, and see what was really going on with Andrew.

 

Both Medics were working in the infirmary. The smaller man named Alhwin was working at the desk, pouring over paperwork. The other was working on some chemicals on a counter.

“Frederick, may I have a moment with you?” Spy interrupted their silence.

The taller Medic turned his head to glare at him, before glancing at the other. Alhwin hesitated before rising slowly from his chair. He took some papers and a pen with himself as he left the infirmary. The man seemed to have a quiet respect for the older man.

When they were finally alone, Spy turned to the Medic. He found that he was being glared down like a hated criminal. He had not doubted the Medic would be angry about his name being used. He did not have much choice, given that there were now two Medics in the vicinity.

“We need to talk,” Spy demanded.

“About what?” the Medic growled with disdain.

“Soldier,” Spy stated.

“Which one?” Medic got a haughty look on his face. But of course the Medic knew which one he was talking about, it was not as if their other Soldier had any outstanding issues to speak of.

“You know who I am speaking of,” he stated, “And if it clarifies anything, it’s the one whose file labels him as Swanson.”

“Nosing around others’ files, I see?” the Medic inquired, rhetorically.

“But of course,” Spy stated.

“I am not very comfortable talking about private patient issues,” the Medic stated sternly.

“Then I have to retrieve the information another way?” Spy asked, “I was so hoping you would make this simple.”

Medic sighed, “When he was initially in here, I found he was not very responsive during surgery. I kept a close eye on him, but I found he does not have as much problems when he is on the battlefield, so I am not treating it as an issue that will affect his work. I won’t report it to the Administrator. But, he is having issues with coworkers and handling hallucinations.”

“His problem has increased?” Spy asked.

“Why are you so concerned?” Medic asked, with a defensive tone.

“It is my concern,” the Spy lied, “If the team starts falling apart, with all of the new mercenaries, there will be more problems to report to the Administrator.” He hoped the man did not try to call his bluff.

“You’re not going to report him to the Administrator, are you?” the Medic asked.

“No,” Spy shook his head, “He is not a problem on the battlefield. This issue just might cause problems in the base.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Medic asked.

“What chemicals are you giving him?” Spy asked.

“Olanzapine for the hallucinations,” Medic replied.

“And treatment for blackouts?” Spy asked.

“Nothing at this time,” Medic stated, “I’m waiting to see how he responds to the drug before putting him on antidepressants.”

“That won’t mix well,” Spy stated, “And if it’s not getting reset by respawn…”

“He’s been gone for a while,” Medic shrugged, “We cannot know for sure he hasn’t been scanned and rescanned onto the system a few different times.”

“Would that have ever been enough for this much regression?” Spy asked.

Medic frowned, “No. No it would not be.”

“Talk to Alhwin,” Spy turned to the door, “See what he has seen. He might not have treated Andrew, but he might have been close enough to see.”

The Medic said nothing to him as he stepped out of the double doors. He made his way from the infirmary to the upper floor. Andrew’s room, among most other mercenaries’ rooms, was there. When he came to the door though, he found himself feeling a loss of every bold thought that could urge him forward.

He was standing at the door. He breathed in silence, staring at the wood. On the other side, he was sure Andrew was there. He was likely asleep, or trying to coax the pain out of his own back.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was handing some toilet tissue to the Spy when a knock came at the door. Maurice went silent as he looked to his invis watch. He looked to Andrew before his disappeared.

Without saying anything more, Andrew went to the door. He hoped Maurice’s watch would outlast whoever was there. He was surprised to see a BLU Spy on the other side, and not just any BLU Spy. This BLU Spy made his heart start pounding wildly.

“May I come in?” Spy asked, when he did not open the door any more than a crack.

“No can do,” he refused. Spy was the last person he needed in here. He would be the best at finding Maurice, and what a shock that would be.

“Please, I just want to talk,” Spy pleaded.

Andrew restrained himself, “No!”

Spy put his weight against the door. He was not pushing, just leaning against it so that Andrew had to bear his weight. He must have been doing something strategic.

“You are much sicker than I remember,” the Spy said, with a sad tone.

“What?” Andrew was taken aback.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” Spy sighed, jumping topics again, “I should have come to you. From day one, I should have shown my face. I was just…” He bit his lip with a sigh.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Andrew stated, trying to make the door close. For some reason, his hand did not obey him and shut the door all the way, it just held it cracked open.

“I cannot leave until you tell me that we’re going to be okay,” the Spy said, “At least forgive me for this. I never meant to hurt you.”

Andrew hesitated, looking over his shoulder. He could not see Maurice, but he was sure he was there. Somewhere in the room he was waiting for everything to be safe. He turned back to Spy to see him rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You can’t come in,” Andrew stated.

“Why won’t you let me in, Andrew?” Spy asked, his voice cracking a little bit. Andrew bit his lip a little at hearing that little crack. “Why are you holding me at arm’s length? Can’t I just tell you how sorry I am? Won’t you let me express my deepest regret? I’m not asking much. Just your ear.”

“Now is not a good time,” Andrew forced his arms to work with him as he shoved the door shut.

He turned the lock and went for the chair he rarely ever used. He placed it under the knob so the door could not open, then sighed with relief. That was over and he could deal with Maurice’s problem.

The RED Spy decloaked, tears in his eyes and a look of despair on his face. It was a little shocking to see that look, even though Andrew was fully aware of how much pain he was in. It seemed like his pain had been renewed though.

“Andrew…I…” Maurice gasped and grabbed the chair. He tossed it aside wildly.

“Maurice, don’t go out there!” Andrew grabbed the chair before it could clatter to the ground, “You’ll be seen!”

Maurice grabbed his disguise kit and threw on a disguise of Andrew. Before Andrew could say anything, the man bolted from the room. Andrew started to follow after him, but his muscles were too slow. When he swung the door open, Maurice was pushing him back in, disguised with Andrew’s helmet and uniform on, and dragging the BLU Spy behind him.

Andrew stumbled back and out of the way while Maurice pulled the Spy in and slammed the door. Spy was quick on his feet, seeing immediately that there was a Spy in the vicinity. Why he let the man drag him inside was beyond Andrew though. Before either of them could react, the BLU Spy flung himself upon Maurice, pushing his forearm against the man’s neck so he turned red. His other hand pulled out his knife and stabbed him in the throat.

“No! Wait! Spy! He’s-” Andrew watched as the disguise disappeared and the BLU Spy let Maurice slide to the floor.

Andrew dropped to his knees beside the Spy, feeling a bit panicked. He had just been in the middle of comforting his friend. This was no way to comfort a friend. Now Maurice would feel more alone than ever, seeing as he would feel like he was being pushed out too.

“It’s okay, amico,” Maurice barely managed, “Don’t waste your time feeling this. Get your BLU Spy. Don’t be like mine.” He could say nothing more as death took him.

“The hell is this?! The hell was that?! Soldier, you harbor REDs in your room?!” the Spy exclaimed, furious and confused.

Andrew rounded on him, “Maurice is my friend! I’ve tried not to be, but dammit he keeps being my amico anyways! I don’t care if you think we are enemies, we were friends once. I was enemies with BLUs once. And we all got along just fine! And now I’m a BLU again, and gosh darn it I…I…” He was panting heavily, shaking his hand around and trying to put on a big show of his frustration.

The Spy looked back at him, watching with widened eyes and curiosity. When he finally spoke, it was with a careful tongue, “You push them away because of me. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Andrew flinched, blinking at him with surprise. He was not sure what Spy meant by that. He waited for confirmation.

“Because…you were reminded of me, you pushed away the BLU Spy…and because of what the RED did, you pushed this man away too…” Spy did not really ask a question this time. He seemed rather sure of himself, contemplating the situation.

“Now that you’re here…” he looked down at Maurice’s body, “And you already know Maurice was here…” He turned his attention back to the Spy. “What were-”

He did not get the chance to speak as the Spy charged at him. He was surprised but it did not really hurt when Spy slammed his shoulder into him. He grunted when he hit the wall, then watched as the body slam turned into an embrace. Unable to stop the hug, he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around the Spy.

“I-I’m sorry,” Spy sniffled, burying his big nose against Andrew’s chest. It was an awkward position, to have the Spy hunched over low enough to press against his chest.

 

After a long time, Spy finally lifted his head and sniffled. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. Andrew wanted to pull him back in but restrained himself.

“I needed that,” the Spy sighed.

Andrew glanced over at the door to see that Maurice and his blood were disappearing. At least there would not be much mess to clean up later. Still, now he had a Spy to deal with, and that RED Spy might come crying to his room again.

“Say something,” Spy demanded.

Andrew looked at him and blinked, “Say what?”

“Anything?” Spy’s eyes pleaded with him.

“Anything,” he stated.

Spy scoffed, “Don’t you have anything to tell me?”

Andrew shook his head, “Nope.” He was immediately stricken with guilt at seeing the man’s expression.

Spy sighed, “It would be too much to ask you to try and have something to say, wouldn’t it?”

“You want me to be okay,” Andrew stated, “But I’m not okay. I’m not. And I know you didn’t intend for any of this…but not seeing my friend and finding that he’s been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you! I swear it!” Spy’s lie was like acid on the back of Andrew’s neck.

He folded his arms, “You’ve been completely out of sight every day this week.”

“I’ve been…I…” Spy’s eyes started to fill with tears. He had to turn away to keep himself from breaking down and joining him. “I care about you, Andrew,” he spoke softly, “I care about you. And being away for so long…” He sighed and shook his head. “I have dealt with being poisoned. I have escaped dogs hunting me. I have moved through active battlements. And yet…confronting you after being apart for so long was the most frightening thing I have ever had to do.”

Andrew sighed and turned away. He could not look at Spy’s face, not with such a desperate expression looking back at him. He had to keep his calm and keep himself from becoming overwhelmed with emotions.

“I know things cannot be the same,” Spy spoke again, “But can’t we start a new relationship?” He offered his hand out to Andrew. “A friendship maybe? From scratch?”

Andrew sighed and grabbed Spy’s hand. He yanked him towards himself, pulling the taller man off balance and into his arms. It felt good to finally pull him into a controlled embrace, with little to no tears involved.

“I love you,” Andrew whispered, “And I want to be with you. I’m not really that angry. I’m just hurt.”

“You have every right to feel that way, mon ami,” Spy sighed as he wrapped his arms around Andrew’s neck. It felt nice to press his face against the man’s soft suit, even with a button pressing into his cheek. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through. Every day has been…disaster. But my life without you…” Spy sighed again.

“Life without you has been…bad,” Andrew barely spat out that last word, unable to come up with a better synonym, “I don’t know how to feel anymore. I just feel like I fall deeper into my head.”

Spy leaned his cheek against Andrew’s head, “I’m here for you. I’m here because I care about you. And I am here to help you get through this. All of this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always knew Maurice was an impulsive type, but I didn't think he'd do this until it happened. He's also such a sad sap and a helpless romantic. Things the other BLU Spy loves about him.
> 
> *Edit*  
> I am finally settled in Kobe. It will be 2 weeks before i have internet at home. Here's hoping I will have a chance to post the next chapter before then (am currently editing this by phone data).


	38. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Spy are unsure about where this will take them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still do not have internet. Posting may be more sporadic in the next few weeks.

Andrew watched Spy from the corner of his eye. The man was gazing tiredly out the single window in the room, leaning against his palms as he sat on the bed. Andrew was sitting on the uncomfortable wood chair. They had been talking for hours, and now they fell into silence. Andrew wondered if this was the time they would separate for the day, and he would be left to wonder what could have been made out of this.

“Our new contracts hold new terms and options,” Spy stated, breaking the silence that had reigned over the room.

“Really?” Andrew tried to play at being aloof and disinterested. He did not really read his new contract, so he was not sure what all was in it.

“We are allotted vacation time,” Spy explained.

“I can’t imagine what I’d do with that,” Andrew shrugged, “Probably would do the same things I do every day anyways.”

“You don’t want more time off?” Spy offered, “Time like you have on the weekends? But more?”

“I don’t reckon I need to have it,” Andrew shrugged it off.

“It would…it would be…” Spy sighed and shook his head, “Never mind.”

“What do we do now?” Andrew asked, hoping for some clarification.

He studied the Spy, hoping for some outward hints. He hoped to find something, any kind of reciprocation in the communication that would help him to understand. He wanted to be something more, but he wanted the Spy to be okay with starting from something lower than what they were before. Things could not just jump back to what they were before, not this time. But, he had to be sure that Spy was going to be okay with that, before pushing the issue into something that the Frenchman would despise.

“Talk. Spend time together. Have a few beers. Share a few laughs,” Spy shrugged at him, “Usual things friends do. Then perhaps we can see where it goes from there?”

The soft little cajoling question made Andrew blush just a little. In all honesty, he could do with Spy out of his suit. He was already in his room and the had already made up for what happened. Knowing what was under the suit only made the thoughts all the sweeter, and enticed Andrew into imagining what he might do if he chanced to touch and feel the other man again.

Spy rose to his feet very suddenly, “I’m going to go for now. Until next time, yea?”

Andrew nodded slowly in response. He felt a little disappointed, as he pushed down the thoughts and feelings. He was the one who had wanted and pushed for this. It hurt thinking about how he could just jump right past all of that friend stuff, but he knew he would regret it later. Spy knew he would regret it, and that was why he was leaving. He was the smarter one.

“I will see you later, yea?” Spy asked.

Andrew got to his feet and walked towards him to offer his hand. Spy looked at it for a moment, before he shook it. How embarrassingly cold and distant, he thought. His cheeks felt warm now, between feeling like an ass and thinking about Spy being in his room.

“We could have a beer together in the rec room,” Spy offered.

“Sounds good,” Andrew nodded.

Spy got that mischievous smirk, “Or I could just climb up to your window and knock?”

Andrew frowned at that, “Just knock on the door.”

Spy chuckled as he headed out the door. Andrew listened to his laughter until he was gone around the corner down the hallway. He felt so much regret for not taking him into his arms, but so much relief that they were okay again.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Sniper paced his camper. He felt so stupid guilty for what had happened. He knew he was not at fault, he just forced them to finally confront each other. What else could he have done? Besides, that was just what Spy did, wasn’t it? Spy made him feel guilty, even when he was not.

He was not surprised when his friend knocked on his door. He had been hoping the man would show up all evening. He usually did to apologize and tell Sniper that it was not his fault. Not like he needed clarification that it was not his fault, but he had gotten used to the motions of this relationship.

“Thank you,” Spy said as he stepped into the camper.

“Thank you?” Sniper felt stunned.

“I wouldn’t have felt comfortable finally talking to him, had you not forced me to face his anger before,” Spy explained. He did not fully face Sniper, but faced away. It was not a sign of guilt, but a sign of pain and he was trying to keep Sniper at arm’s length.

Sniper thought for a minute, studying Spy. He had gone through the motions of their friendship for many years. Even when things changed for him, he did not seem to change for Spy. He just sort of did the same old things. He thought the same old way and kept on like that.

He needed to think differently and act differently now. Now that he thought about it, Spy was not the man he used to be. He never was the man Sniper thought he was. He was different from all of those thoughts.

Before he could change his mind on what he was going to do, he reached out and took Spy’s arm, pulling him into an embrace. How weird it felt too. He did not hug Spy often, and it was usually when one of them was in some form of emotional turmoil. And Spy had only recently cried around him. This was different though.

“What are you doing, Glenn?” Spy demanded, slightly muffled against his shoulder.

“You sentimental types…you like hugs, right?” Sniper asked.

Spy started laughing into his shoulder at the offense, but still he wrapped his arms around Sniper. He did not start crying, like Sniper had feared, but he did take a deep shuddering breath. When they finally pulled apart, Spy was shaking his head.

“You’re a dick, you know that, right?” Spy chuckled.

Sniper gave him a small smile and shrugged, “Learning my friend all over again.”

“Why?” Spy asked, giving him a questioning raise of an eyebrow.

“You’re somebody I didn’t know,” Sniper shrugged again, “I regret not getting to know you better all these years. But…maybe that’s just cause of your secretive nature as a Spy.”

“Speaking of which,” the Spy scratched at his neck, causing the balaclava to shift, “I don’t see the point they have put into…spying.” Spy motioned to himself, as if the point he was trying to get across was obvious.

“What do you mean?” Sniper scrunched his eyebrows at him.

“Maybe not everybody is aware of the show, but shouldn’t they know that anybody who would recognize them is long dead?” Spy shrugged, “Even if an enemy of mine were alive, they would not recognize me.”

Sniper started laughing, thinking it was a jest, “You’ve worn that balaclava so long, your mother probably wouldn’t recognize you!”

Spy gave him a warning glare and a monotone voice, “Indeed.”

Sniper clicked his jaw shut. He tightened his lips, feeling a bit embarrassed at laughing about something that was serious to Spy. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought about something more to say.

“Didn’t mean anythin’ by it, mate,” Sniper stated hastily.

“I am aware,” Spy nodded slowly. Of course, Spy knew him better than he knew Spy.

He sighed at that thought, “What are you tryin’ to get at?”

“There has been no reason to hide at all,” Spy stated, motioning to his head, “Every Spy is made to believe we’re being watched closely and hunted by enemies that are either no longer alive, or no longer able to recognize us. Look at me!”

Sniper looked him up and down, “Yea? What about you?”

“Have you ever once seen my face? Ever seen my brow, or my nose?” Spy asked.

Sniper chortled, “You are very good at keeping your secrets.”

“Because my life has been threatened from day one,” Spy declared, raising his voice.

That took Sniper back a bit. He remembered feeling a bit of fear when joining Mann Co, it came with the territory of being an assassin. There was always somebody wanting revenge, somebody wanting information out of you, or somebody who wanted to stop your mission. Respawn had mostly taken those fears away for Sniper, given that any death would have resulted in respawn, so long as he stayed close by it.

For Spy, things were probably different. He was a man of secrets and espionage. While the rest of the base’s men were sharing their hearts over drinks, the man was avoiding friendships. While everybody else had lovers to talk about, Spy kept himself at a distance, both mentally and emotionally. It was part of why the more emotional side of Spy surprised Sniper so much lately.

“I cannot see a reason to keep up the charade,” Spy shrugged.

“Wait…” Sniper flinched, “Are you talking about your identity?” Spy nodded slowly. Thrown into a panic, Sniper started to yell, “You can’t share your identity!”

“Why not?” Spy shrugged, “Every day I face only the same threats. I could walk around without it on, it would make no difference.”

“It would make a whole lot of difference!” Sniper was panicking without thought, “The other mercenaries? What questions will they ask you when they see the Spy walking around without his secrets hidden?”

Spy shrugged, “Well, I suppose someday it comes to that.”

Sniper took a breath to calm himself and quiet his voice, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

Spy nodded, “Yes I am.”

“Well don’t,” Sniper told him sternly.

“What?” Spy gave him a perplexed look.

“Don’t go around telling everyone your name and showing your face,” Sniper stated, “You may not see the importance of it now…but…”

“Sniper, I’m a grown man,” Spy growled, “I’ll face the consequences of my own actions.”

“You’re going to face them with issues,” Sniper stated, “What will you do when all is said and done?”

“Dunno,” Spy shrugged, “I’ll figure it out.”

“You can’t take something like that back,” Sniper stated, “Why do you think the RED hasn’t done anything like that.”

Heat rose to Spy’s face visibly, as the obvious signs of anger rose. Spy was suppressing it in his voice though, “Why?”

“The man is a Spy,” Sniper offered, “And still nobody has seen him with his balaclava off. Not even his closest lovers.”

Spy’s mouth softened from its straight line. He had a thoughtful look in his eyes as he glanced away.

“Just…think about it, before you do something stupid,” Sniper warned him.

“So very concerned for my identity,” Spy commented.

“I’m concerned about your safety,” Sniper stated.

“Why?” Spy chuckled at him.

“We have respawn,” Sniper said, “But think about it. How many more people hate _you_ because you are a Spy. How many people would hurt the people you care about to get you.”

“Are you concerned I would put your life in jeopardy?” Spy raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You have more enemies than me, Spy,” Sniper replied, “I’m sure of that. And if you choose to have a life outside of work…like say have a lover. Or even a family. You know…they will still come find you. Mann Co will make your life hell too.”

“I get it, Glenn,” Spy retorted, with irritation, “You’re concerned because you think I’ll follow in your footsteps.”

“I wouldn’t say that, no,” Glenn argued. He could not see how falling for a man, and a man like the Soldier no less, would be anything like what Glenn was doing.

“I’ll think about it more,” the Spy finally gave in, “But, eventually you will have to accept that things are different now that I know.”

“I’ve accepted it,” Sniper argued, “It’s you who’s gotta accept that things are gonna be different!”

Spy chuckled at that. He had that gleam in his eye, that gleam that said he thought he knew better than Sniper. Of course he thought that, he always did. He thought himself smarter than the whole world. Still, Sniper felt concerned about him.

“You’re not going to go off and do something rash, are you?” Sniper asked.

“No,” Spy sighed, turning his head away, “Maybe I’ll go on a vacation.” He shrugged at the thought. “Just a little one. No big deal. Just a break from all of this fighting.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Sniper nodded, “Vacation sounds nice.”

“It’s overdue,” Spy added.

“We’re all overdue,” Sniper nodded in agreement again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now a sequel. I will be posting the last few chapters soon but I have posted the first chapter of the next story. It is called Her Name. And you will find this story is now a part of a series.


	39. Why Was Soldier Taken?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry Engineer starts stirring the pot.

Miss Pauling looked at the four mercenaries with concern. There had been plenty of time for them to get to know each other. No less, there had been plenty of time for them to adjust to their new lives together. But something seemed very off.

Of course, some of the mercenaries in various bases, even the handlers, were at each other’s throats for disagreements. But the four here just seemed to be even more separated from their own teammates than they did their enemies.

The BLU Demoman, holding his usual half empty bottle, was sitting rather close to the RED Spy. The Spy was tolerating the smell, if only to keep himself separate from the RED Engineer, who gravitated in conversation towards the BLU Spy.

She cleared her throat, “So…have names been decided?”

“That hardly seems to be the problem at hand,” the BLU Demoman stated.

“There are a lot of problems at hand,” the BLU Spy stated.

“Which would you start with? Hmm?” the RED Spy demanded of them.

The RED Engineer tried to pipe in, “How about we-”

Miss Pauling decided to cut in at that, “Now now. One issue at a time. Just _one_ issue at a time.”

“We understand that,” the RED Spy nodded.

“Gosh darnit! I don’t understand why we needed to be here in the first place!” the RED Engineer exclaimed.

“A project that Miss P’s been working on,” the BLU Demoman explained briefly.

“Oh be quiet,” the BLU Spy rolled his eyes.

“Gentlemen!” Miss Pauling snapped at them. They went silent relatively quickly. She nodded to them in succession, “As for why, I’ve been working on this project for decades. You’ve been part of it for a long time, Mister Dooley. Now it is being moved up to a locational server that will cater to a different more popular audience.”

“Does location even matter?” the RED Spy inquired.

“No, but that’s not the point,” Miss Pauling said, simply.

“Then why not simply continue recording down in Mexico?” the BLU Spy inquired.

She rolled her eyes back and sighed. Why could she not have picked fewer Spies? She should have known from the start that they would be such a problem, but they had seemed like the perfect solutions back in the day. Now she just regretted the decision.

“Because the majority audience being American wants to see a wider view of the fighters, and the location provides better vantage points,” she explained.

“Huh?” the BLU Demoman scrunched his brow at her.

“Trees,” she sighed at him, “The cameras get mounted on all of the trees.”

“I know that,” the Demoman nodded. Indeed, he was already aware of that, but he seemed to be too drunk already to make the connection on his own.

She sighed again. This would be a long discussion if she could not keep them all on the same page. One would think that after so many years of working like this, the Demoman would be used to things like this. He should be used to the discussions as well. At least he managed to become used to being civil around the RED Spy, and other REDs in the same room.

“There need to be names decided on camera,” she stated, “Yours is a unique team now. We need each mercenary to have a name. It doesn’t have to be a real name. It could just be a nickname that the others call him.”

“We are in the process of this,” the RED Spy nodded in agreement.

“Much have my team already has nicknames,” the RED Engineer said. He was hunched over with a pouting look to him though.

“That aside, I’ll address your concern, Mister Dooley,” she turned to the Engineer.

He raised his head, but did not really perk up, “Any reason for the changes that you made to my team, Miss Pauling? All due respect, but I feel a little slighted for the slight of hand you pulled on us. Didn’t even find out about the switching of certain members until we were on the train here.”

“What? Miss your little Soldier?” the RED Spy teased.

The RED Engineer shot the Spy a nasty glare with a snarl added in. The BLU Spy simply raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he was referring to. The BLU Demoman looked at each man with dumbfounded confusion. What a ridiculous group, Miss Pauling thought.

“Requests were put in long ago for those switches,” Miss Pauling explained simply, “We were simply complying by making the switch during a transition period. We did not have time, nor the right, to tell other mercenaries about a switch that was relative to those classes only.”

“What about the handlers?” the RED Engineer demanded, “You weren’t going to tell us?”

She clammed up a bit at that. She had been good about letting the handlers know about changes. Even when the BLU Soldier had been moved down to the RED team in Mexico, she had made sure to tell the Demoman, the handler of his original team. Now that he was back on that team, she had not thought too much about the RED team from Mexico’s handler.

“You weren’t, were you?” the RED Spy spoke rhetorically.

He was quick like a whip, similar to the counterpart he had fought against for near half a century. Miss Pauling was already becoming aware of the slight and silent tension building up in the room between the Spies. Tension often happened between Spies, they were more competitive than the other classes, without revealing it to their colleagues. But the BLU Spy in this room would have to compete with two men with collectively more experience and higher intelligence than he could hope to achieve. It was a shame those two brilliant Spies could not be put to use working together instead of against each other. Miss Pauling had to keep the balance that Administration, after all. The Administrator used to love scoring mercenaries in such ways that would keep them balanced on their teams.

“What’s done is done,” the Demoman spoke up, “It’s time to move on, lad. You can’t have ‘em back. That’s the end of it!”

“The switch _was_ rather phoned in,” the BLU Spy offered, hoping to support the other handler he had worked with for so long.

“Don’t start with this!” the Demoman exclaimed.

“I just want to know why,” the RED Engineer turned his full attention to Miss Pauling. He had a scowl that could curdle cheese. “Why did you switch those mercenaries?”

Her heart started to race as she thought of who he was talking about. He was asking vaguely, but she was sure he was asking more specifically about the Soldier class. Video footage had shown him growing quite attached to the Soldier rather quickly. He took to the man right away, and over time he showed his affection more and more on the cameras. Of course, having seen the Soldier before, it was clear to her that the Soldier had no clue that he was being fawned over until the man finally confessed. The confession was not necessary for her though, she had watched him become all too close to the man.

“The RED Heavy, hereafter known as Nikita Vasiliev, suffered a severe amount of abuse from the RED Medic, or Reiner Hummel,” she put on the best tone of formality she could muster, “And he filed several reports starting from about a year ago. And so we switched the two so he would not be working so closely with Hummel.”

“Is there not concern for the other Heavy?” the BLU Spy asked, “Matheus does not deserve that treatment any more than Nikita did.”

“Yes, well,” she cleared her throat, “Certain circumstances led Hummel to act as he did. Given that those factors are not apparent in Matheus Sousa, he should be fine.”

“What factors, exactly?” the RED Spy asked. He was leaning to the side on one elbow, with a bored look to him. If he were any other man of any other class, she would have wondered why he was not complaining that they were using up his time on this pointless topic, when they could be discussing other things.

“And the Soldiers?” the RED Engineer waved off the Spy’s question.

“Well, I’m not at liberty to discuss the factors, but I assure you it is not too opaque,” Miss Pauling told the RED Spy, then she turned to the Engineer again, “And as for the Soldiers? A request was filed long ago. His return was filed years ago. Request for return to his original team was filed maybe seven or eight months before you and your team came here.” Part of that was a lie, but if certain characters started digging for information, she wanted them to be misled.

“Who the hell filed that?!” the RED Engineer demanded, loudly and angrily.

“I did,” the BLU Demoman lied.

Miss Pauling was surprised. He did not have to lie for her, she could certainly cover for herself. Still, it was easier to let the handler take the blame for something that was filed by one of the other BLUs and herself. She wondered if he had a stake in the Soldier’s return or not. Maybe he they were just good friends and he did not want the Spies – or the stubborn Engineer for that matter – stirring up trouble between his friend the Soldier and the Soldier’s lover.

“You did?” the BLU Spy and RED Engineer were both surprised.

BLU Spy eyed his counterpart warily, “You don’t seem too surprised.”

“I was there when he filed it,” the RED Spy lied.

Miss Pauling felt overwhelmed with confusion. Now the RED Spy was lying, being pulled into this without having to. He was not friends with his counterpart or the BLU Soldier. He was not friends with hardly anybody. Why he would be so kind as to be a false witness to the Demoman’s testimony was beyond Miss Pauling. Of course, she always started to think she understood Spies, and then they did things that were beyond her comprehension. She needed to stop thinking she knew them so well.

The RED Engineer was chewing on his lip with an angry look. He wanted to chew somebody out or start a fist fight. Either way, she wanted to move them onward beyond that.

“So, next point of discussion is vacations,” she pulled out some papers she had printed out for them, “This is a schedule of times that are best for mercenaries to apply for their vacation time.”

“Wait, wait a minute,” the Engineer interrupted.

Miss Pauling exchanged a look with the RED Spy. He did not say anything, but his eyes conveyed a shrug of uncertainty. She turned her gaze back to the man interrupting her.

“You expect me to believe that _you_ applied for Soldier’s return?” the Engineer turned on the BLU Demoman. The Demoman looked affronted, his eye darting between each man before coming back to the Engineer. The Engineer rose from his seat to make himself taller, before a man who was taller than him, even while seated. “After he was sent down there in the first place? You? You applied for his return? Who sent him down there in the first place?!”

“Administration did,” Miss Pauling intervened.  
 All heads swiveled to her. This time it was the truth, nobody on BLU asked for Soldier to go, it was Administration that chose to send him down there. At least she got to be honest for a split moment.

“Administration saw certain opportunities and decided to send the BLU Soldier down to Mexico,” she explained.

“What sort of opportunities?” the RED Spy asked.

Miss Pauling’s hackles rose as her gaze met his. He had this mischievous twinkle in his eye that said he was pushing her luck. He was demanding that she follow through with more information for them, if this was the path she was going to go down. Spies liked to push her buttons like that. This particular Spy did like being an asshole from time to time.

“Well,” she hesitated, thinking up a lie to cover what had happened between him and the Spy. That was not common knowledge, she thought. “The teams down in Mexico both have…uh…effeminate…characters…” she winced, feeling both the BLU Spy’s and the RED Engineer’s glare on her, “And they decided that they wanted most characters to match as they do on other bases. So they switched out the previous RED Soldier for a Soldier who they knew would be…how do I describe it? Manly? Loud? Boisterous? American?”

“He is not par for par what Ferris is,” the BLU Spy stated, “Though, they seem more and more alike lately, now that he’s been on the RED team becoming a blood lusting monster.” He shot a glare at the RED Spy, who gave him an innocent look.

She glanced between the two Spies, before she continued, “Still, Ferris Krakowski was more of a macho American than the predecessor for RED’s Soldier class was. It fit Andrew Swanson for that role.”

“So he was meant to go down there permanently?” the RED Engineer asked, with hesitation, but also determination.

She nodded in response, “They were determined to balance out the personalities for the most part. And the…the application for his return to the BLU team here was filed later. It took four years to get Administration to cooperate.” Bouncing between honesty and lies felt really weird. Still, when she glanced at the RED Spy, she got an approving look.

“And I could apply for a switch back?” the Engineer asked.

Dread creeped up on her. She glanced between the BLU Demo and the RED Spy. Both of them were aware of the situation that was the Soldier and the Spy’s relationship. They were in on the reason why the Soldier went down there. They knew what it would mean if the RED Engineer took him back from the BLU team.

“It…would be difficult…to make the switch,” she spoke carefully and softly. She was not very confident in this one, and it was quickly starting to show. “But technically you c-”

“Hey now! I don’t know what you’re on about, but you’re not takin’ my team Soldier!” the Demoman rose to his feet, bending over the table so his face was a little closer to the Engineer’s.

It became a spitting match, as the two shouted and roared at each other. Their voices became noise and their words became incomprehensible. The BLU Spy stood up to try and calm them both down, without any luck. Neither of them would quiet down, and neither of them would return to their seats.

Knowing she would have no more progress with this meeting, Miss Pauling rose from her chair. When none of them reacted – aside from the RED Spy raising a questioning eyebrow – she made her way out the door. She would leave them to their shouting match for now, and come back to meet with them when they were ready to behave. She could wait, she was sure that she had become a very patient woman, after so many years of working with inconceivably nonsensical mercenaries.

 

*********************************************************************

 

When the Demoman and the other Spy came storming into the base, Spy gave them a curious look. “Something go wrong?” he inquired, with a nonchalant tone.

Réne flinched as the Demoman rounded on him, “That damn Engineer’s goin’ ta take Soldier from us!”

“Not quite take him from us,” Réne winced, his voice lowered. He did not like that the Demoman was yelling about this.

“He wants to switch ‘em back!” the Demoman rounded on Réne angrily.

Not much needed to be said. In fact, Spy was sure he was speaking too loudly about this kind of thing. He was lucky that nobody was around to hear it. Spy heard it though, he heard the man loud and clear on what the issue was.

He activated his invis watch so he could not be followed, as he made his way out of the base. He had a long talk ahead of him. He checked for his disguise kit, just in case of any issues along the way. He could not rely solely on the invis watch.

 

After exploring the RED base for a while, he found the Engineer he was looking for. At least, he was sure he probably had. Demoman never really specified which Engineer it was, but this seemed to be the one – one of the men who came up from Mexico with Andrew.

He was pacing about the RED Spy’s smoking room, frustratedly huffing on a cigar. The Spy was only half listening, looking bored and irritated. No doubt he wanted to kick the man out. Given how rude he could be, it surprised the BLU that the Engineer was not already being forcibly removed from the room.

This seemed like as good a place as any to talk to him. Of course, he did not like the RED Spy being around, but given the RED was a handler, he would already be aware of more than the BLU wanted him to be.

He was out of sight when he disguised as the other BLU Spy. It would make more sense for a BLU to come to discuss this, and who better than a Spy? Still, not being a handler himself, he was not thrilled with the idea of them figuring out that he was the one who was concerned about Andrew.

When he stepped inside, both men turned to him. The Engineer’s rant went silent. The Spy gave him a curious raise of the eyebrow.

“Not a very good place to be meeting,” the RED Spy noted.

“The hell are you doing here, Réne?” the RED Engineer demanded, “And how’d you not trip the alarm?”

“I’m not here to cause any trouble,” BLU stated, simply.

The RED Spy motioned for him to proceed, to which he bowed his head to oblige. It was a simple flourish that he had seen Réne do time and again. If he was to keep up the act, he had to make them believe he was who his visual disguise claimed him to be.

“I am here regarding the issue with the Soldiers,” BLU Spy explained.

“Oh, so what now? You’re gonna side with that Demoman too?” the Engineer growled with disdain. His mouth bent into a snarl.

“Listen for what he has to say,” the RED Spy sighed with a roll of his eyes.

He must have been listening to this man’s rant for far too long. Hearing anybody else speak would force whatever politeness was left in the little Texan to return to him. Or at least, somebody else speaking meant that the Engineer would not be speaking anymore.

“Thank you,” BLU Spy nodded again, “And…I’ve discussed this with the Demoman. And having seen A- ahem, Soldier in person…amidst his old team…”

He paused, glancing at the RED Spy. The man’s eyes had that twinkle like he was figuring something out. He might have caught that fumble where the BLU almost spoke Andrew’s name in place of his title. He silently prayed that he was not figuring out who he really was.

“I know you like having him on the RED team, but this is different,” BLU Spy went on, “This isn’t just a team. These are his old friends. His comrades. He’s been fighting with them for far longer than you or I.”

“Get to the point,” the RED Spy snapped in French.

The BLU Spy cleared his throat, “What I mean to say is that he…he might be better off remaining on the BLU team.”

“And you don’t think the guys on RED are good enough friends with him?” the Engineer retaliated.

BLU Spy tried to remain calm in his appearance and his tone, “No, I just think that-”

“Look here, mister,” the Engineer raised a finger to his face, “We’re friends, but you and I don’t even hang out, do we? No! And now Soldier’s on BLU, and none of his friends here on RED see him unless he’s shooting at them! I for one have had just about enough of the nonsense. It’s bullshit. And I’m going to file a complaint with Administration about how this compromises our battles.”

“You’re going to Administration? File a complaint about work?” that set BLU Spy’s hackles up. Panic started to hit him as he realized that this meant he would get scrutinized by Administration far too harshly, if the Administrator was anything to go by.

“Yea,” the Engineer put on a sneer, “Forget Miss Pauling. I’m going right over her head! And they can’t ignore a complaint that revolves around our work hours! They’ll have to regard my complaint for certain!”

The RED Spy rose at that, “You should not do this, Dooley.”

The Engineer rounded on him, “That’s _Mister_ Dooley to you, sir!”

“The BLU Soldier belongs where he is,” the RED Spy stated, unaffected by the Engineer’s retaliation, “His longtime friends, his doctor and his good health is there.”

“What would you know about any of that?” the Engineer demanded, “You were never friends with him! You hate him! You’re always telling people how he disgusts you. Just like every other Soldier! Why do you even care?”

“Handling requires balance on both sides,” the RED Spy said, sternly. He was not dissuaded for a moment from his side of the argument. “And you wouldn’t know the first thing about his previous or current health.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” the Engineer demanded, “Man’s as healthy as a horse! Never gets sick either. I’ve had colds near three times a year and he never gets one.”

“Oh? You never considered his history as a veteran?” the RED Spy went on. His tone was toying with the Engineer, the way a Spy would dangle in front of a man’s face.

“You’re treading dangerous territory here, boy,” the Engineer shook a finger in the RED Spy’s face. Already the way he was addressing him had gone from respectful to demeaning.

“But you should have noticed,” the RED Spy said, dismissively, “The blackouts? Hallucinations? He’s not just a man with a bad temper.”

“How would you know all of this?” the Engineer demanded.

“I’m the Spy,” the RED stated, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, “I’m supposed to know everything. And I do.”

“Not enough,” the Engineer growled.

The RED Spy rolled his eyes. He glanced at the BLU Spy, noting that he was still there, while this conversation between the REDs was still going on. He did not address that for the moment.

“I’ve had to keep tabs on the Soldier, just as I keep tabs on every colleague and enemy,” the RED Spy stated, “My counterpart would do the same. Just ask our Medic here, he’s gained quite the angry streak with any mention of him. Just the same, I’ve been privy to the Soldier’s history, and I’ve even recovered some details from his current condition from the Medics’ files.”

“Proof?” the Engineer growled. He was glaring at him with a look of warning.

“No,” the RED Spy refused, “I don’t keep physical documents anymore. It’s too dangerous. But if you would like to know, the Soldier is currently on an Olanzapine treatment.”

“Olanzapine?” the Engineer asked, obviously not knowing what the drug was or what its use was.

“It’s a treatment for the hallucinations,” the RED Spy explained, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, “Your team has made him worse for wear. Haven’t you noticed? His old doctor is concerned that he has gotten increasingly sicker, and his mental state could corrupt him permanently, given the respawn hasn’t fixed anything.”

“R-respawn?” the Engineer’s face changed dramatically. He looked confused, sad, concerned and guilty all at once.

“Yes,” the RED Spy finally turned to the BLU, “It is best that the BLU Medic continues treating him, isn’t that right? Besides, he has a network of people looking out for him.” The BLU Spy nodded slowly, cautious of the other man’s mischievous look. “Besides, I hear _Jacques_ is looking out for him just fine.”

Something in his tone, or maybe something in his smile, just set off alarms in the Spy’s mind. Of course the RED Spy already knew of the relationship between himself and Andrew, but there was something more to it. It was almost as if he was dangling that in front of him knowingly. It was a hint at knowing that he was not Réne at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, i am stirring up more shit when it is supposed to be ending. One last chapter after this.  
> Next is a sequel: Her Name


	40. Not the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter to this story, but not the end for Andrew, Jacques and friends.

“A RED Engineer is in the base!” the Administrator’s voice hit everybody’s ear. Nobody believed it though. An Engineer in the base? That was bizarre.

Alhwin went out to the main area of the base to see about it though. He had a sneaking suspicion about the Administrator’s claim. He was sad to see that he was right.

“Engineer!” he grabbed the man by the arm, and tried to pull him outside of the base, “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not leaving,” the Engineer shook his hand off, “I’m not leaving until I get to speak with Soldier.”

“Which one?” Alhwin asked, without really thinking about it.

The RED Engineer looked at him with a bit of a glare. It was the most intimidating look he had ever seen on the man. Of all his years working as his enemy, he was surprised that the man had any kind of mean streak in him.

“You know the one I’m talking about,” the Engineer growled.

Alhwin swallowed, feeling intimidated by the Engineer. They had been friends since the BLU-turned-RED-turned-BLU Soldier got them better acquainted. Of course, there always seemed to be some sort of rivalry to gaining the Soldier’s attention, which only made sense to him after the Engineer told the Soldier about his feelings. Right in front of Alhwin and Nikita no less.

“Either bring him out here or I’m going looking for him,” the Engineer growled at him.

“Engie? What are you doing here?” the Soldier’s voice caught them by surprise. Both of their heads whipped around to look at him. “The hell are you doing here, son?” the Soldier demanded.

“I’m here to talk to you,” the Engineer calmed down, visibly relaxing. He even seemed to smile a little bit.

Alhwin still remembered the glare and the attitude. He could not shake it from his memory. He took a few steps away, wanting to put some distance between himself and the RED Engineer.

“H-how’ve you been?” the Engineer tried to pass the visit off as some nonchalant friendly visit.

“What’re you doing here?” the Soldier demanded again. That was when Alhwin’s attention was brought to the shotgun in his hands, held to the side so that it was not aimed at anything.

“I came to…to talk,” the Engineer said, with that tone that said he was going to get to the bottom of what he wanted to discuss, “I’m going to file some paperwork, you see. And it’ll…it’ll put you back with the RED team again.” He smiled, a bit pleased by the news he just bore on him.

Alhwin was astonished. Could the Engineer really do that? And under what circumstances aside from what the Administrator took as abuse could he have to switch the team Soldiers? Surely she would be irritated at being bothered by a request to switch team members after they had already been traded.

“What?!” the Soldier grew defensive.

“It wasn’t fair for them to spring that on you and all,” the Engineer explained, “And we’re friends. That compromises our work, don’t it?”

“I tell you not to go soft!” the Soldier raised his voice. Alhwin wished he could see his eyes from beneath that helmet though, curious about his full expression.

“I know that,” the Engineer fidgeted nervously, “I just feel it needs to be pointed out that you were on this team. That makes y-”

“THAT MEANS NOTHING,” the Soldier raised his voice so loud that Alhwin panicked. He started running the other way, but did not get far before he stopped to listen. “I’M BACK WITH MY TEAM! I’M BACK WITH MY FRIENDS! MY FAMILY! AND YOU’RE GOING TO TEAR ME AWAY?!” There was something cracking in his voice.

“Easy Soldier,” the Engineer tried to calm him, “I’m just tryin’a fix things.”

“It can’t be fixed if it ain’t broke, Engie!” the Soldier exclaimed. Now Alhwin was sure there was disbelief and desperation in the man’s voice.

“Doesn’t our friendship mean anything to you?” the Engineer pleaded with him.

“It does,” the Soldier lowered his voice a little and softened his grip on the shotgun, “But, why would you want to take me from my friends all over again?”

“Y-your friends?” the Engineer looked like he was about to have a meltdown at this point.

“You and I are friends, but my friends…the Administrator took me from them. That fucking RED Spy took me from them! And now you?!” the Soldier was shaking now, his grip tensing and relaxing on the gun. Alhwin was afraid he might do something he regretted if something did not intervene.

“S-Soldier! I didn’t know, okay!” the Engineer put his hands up defensively, “I swear. I didn’t know! I just-” He went silent at that.

After a few moments, Réne appeared, placing a hand on the Soldier’s shoulder. He was giving the Engineer a hard look though, “Are you done now?” The RED Engineer looked up at him and nodded, before his gaze dropped back to the ground. “You should return to your base,” Réne stated, brusquely waving his hand dismissively.

The BLU Spy stood there with the Soldier, watching as the Engineer turned and left. It was a sad sight to witness. It was like everything in the friendship had broken, leaving the Soldier angry and the Engineer painfully sad. It was too pathetic to stand there and watch, yet he stood there until the Spy led the Soldier away.

 

*********************************************************************

 

When they were well out of sight, Spy dropped the disguise of Réne. That was immediately responded to by a look of confusion on the Soldier’s face. He offered him a smile of condolence.

“I forgot I had an issue with my disguise kit,” he lied, “Sorry if that confused you.”

“Not at all,” Andrew offered him an awkward smile, “You saved me from beating the crap out of a friend.”

Spy frowned at that. That made him feel a little nauseated, to think of Andrew losing himself a little and hurting a friend. It did help that the man was a RED, but still, Andrew was not known to purposefully hurt his friends. He was typically good natured. It brought pain to Spy to think that he would never be quite the same friendly, well-intentioned man he once was.

At least they were together now. It was not like it was, but it was still nice. Andrew had this way of talking that reminded Spy that there was still something between them. There was still a compassion beyond friendship. Andrew cared about Spy, his wellbeing and more. Spy reciprocated by trying to show that Andrew was his entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last plug for the sequel. It can be found on the series page: Her Name  
> These guys are still the mains.
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this story. It ended this way because happy endings are not all cookie cutter. Just being happy can be enough. If you want to see the two end back up together, that is where the sequel comes in. But a story must have its end somewhere, so The End.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: After reviewing my notes, i started to wonder if anybody had noticed that the title was a reference to the main characters both having been in the Allied forces.


End file.
